The Greenshirts and the Werewolf
by Karama9
Summary: When they discover that one of the Joes is a werewolf, a group of intrepid greenshirts step up to save the day! No werewolves were harmed in the making of this story. Final chapter now up!
1. Chapter 1: A Wolf with an Injured Paw

Scarlett sighed and shifted a bit against Snake Eyes's side. He pulled her closer and looked down at her fondly.

"I love my job, honest," she said softly. "But…"

She turned her eyes to the sunset again – she'd happily sit here for hours looking at the Sierras bathed in gold, if only sunsets lasted that long.

Her contemplation was interrupted by his silent chuckle. She looked at him questioningly. He signed to remark that they were alone, watching a sunset together, miles away from civilization, and that she had just completed the phrase "I love" by "my job". He chuckled again and added that maybe he should be insulted.

She elbowed him in the ribs.

"You know what I mean. I wish we didn't have to head back tomorrow morning."

He nodded, serious again, and pulled her tighter against him, kissing the top of her head. She turned to face him, pulled him into a much less platonic kiss and dragged him down to the ground.

Things were really starting to get interesting when they heard a distinctly distressed howl, followed by high pitched whimpers.

Snake Eyes's head snapped up. Scarlett's eyes widened.

"Do you think…?"

He took off running towards the whimpers, which was answer enough: yes, he did think that was Timber. Scarlett scrambled up and followed.

* * *

She caught up with him just as he was lifting the injured wolf in his arms. Timber gave him a lick, but somehow managed to look highly embarrassed. She gave the animal a pat, looking him over, and quickly spotted the bloody and crushed paw. Her eyes widened before narrowing in a scowl.

"Leg-hold trap?" she asked.

Snake Eyes nodded, frowning, and pointed at the trap, which, judging by the size, was indeed meant for wolves or at least for wolf-sized animals.

"If I get my hands on the jerk that put that there…" Scarlett said, picking it up, "it's a cheap one, look: old style, no padding whatsoever. These things should be illegal everywhere. Poor thing, that's going to take weeks to heal… that's how you met him, too, isn't it?"

He nodded and started back towards the cabin, his upper lip curling up in a snarl as Timber tensed in pain from the movement imposed on his broken paw. It was at least lucky the wolf had stumbled on the cruel contraption while they were still here. Just one day later, and he would likely have bled to death – hunters hardly ever came around, and it was a near certainty that whoever had put this trap down had long since forgotten about it.

"I'll ask for extended leave," Scarlett said from behind him. "We both have months of unused leave; Hawk won't refuse to let us take a couple of extra weeks."

Snake Eyes shook his head, deposited Timber on the bed, and signed that either there was trouble and they should go back and help, or there wasn't and Tommy was liable to go crazy from boredom and start making some very soon.

She wrinkled her nose, but he missed it, his head being buried under the sink to fish out the first aid kit. She did it again when he surfaced.

"I can't believe you're worried about Tommy being bored when Timber's hurt."

He tossed her the kit and signed to argue Tommy being bored was a very good reason to be worried, but that jokes put aside, he didn't want to stay here only for some major disaster to happen while he was still away.

Scarlett bit the inside of her cheek, at a loss for what to do. She didn't like being away from her duties anymore than he did - which was why they both had unused leave - but she knew from past experience that Snake Eyes would not entertain the thought of leaving Timber with a veterinarian: wolves were considered wild life and it was therefore illegal to have one as a pet. The mild annoyance of having to go around that law put aside, it also meant that any veterinarian Timber was left with was likely to decide the easiest thing to do was to put him out of his misery, assuming that unlike a domesticated animal, he wouldn't be missed.

Confirming that thought, Snake Eyes signed that he still wasn't going to leave Timber.

She blinked at him before her eyes widened.

"You're bringing him?"

He nodded.

"Are you going to ask for permission? I don't think Hawk would be able to okay it. Not officially, anyway."

He shook his head – there was no way official policies would allow for a wild wolf to hang out inside the base for any length of time, and he wasn't about to put Hawk in the position of having to bend yet a few more regulations for him. Since someone had to break the rules for him to be able to care for Timber for a week or two, that someone was going to be him, not his Commanding Officer.

"We're still going to need extra vacation to bring him back here when he's better," she remarked.

He shrugged and signed that he might be able to get Tommy or Stalker to give Timber a ride and that the wolf could stay in the wooded area just outside the base for a few weeks if necessary.

Scarlett nodded and turned her attention to the injured animal. She took the bottle of disinfectant out of the kit, looked at it thoughtfully for a moment and tossed it at Snake Eyes, getting up and stepping away from the wolf.

"You do it, Mr. Wolf-Keeper ninja," she said, smirking. "He's less likely to bite you than me, and even if he tries, you can probably dodge it."

Snake Eyes chuckled, much too grateful for Scarlett's immediate acceptance of his intention to sneak Timber in the Pit to mind her not helping – besides, she was right about the biting and dodging odds. He pressed one of Timber's sleeping points and set to work.

Scarlett smacked her forehead – in hindsight, she should have known Snake Eyes would be able to find a sleeping point on the wolf. She was, after all, very personally acquainted with how good the Arashikage were at using those: Storm Shadow had taken all of one hundredth of a second to locate and use hers when he had kidnapped her. She frowned thoughtfully as her thoughts jumped to the fact Storm Shadow would likely hear the wolf in Snake Eyes' quarters within hours of their arrival at the Pit.

"I don't suppose Tommy will figure his oath to Hawk means he has to report us sneaking a wild animal into the Pit?" she asked.

Snake Eyes shook his head and finished cleaning and bandaging Timber's paw before turning his attention back to Scarlett and signing that Tommy would trust him to make sure Timber wasn't going to hurt anyone and would realize telling Hawk would only put the General in a bad position.

Scarlett looked doubtful, but didn't push the issue.

* * *

They left early the following morning to start the five days drive back to the Pit. They had thankfully planned to drive back all along, which at least eliminated the issue of trying to smuggle Timber on a plane.

Given that they had a wild wolf as a travel companion, and considering said wolf was injured and therefore ill-tempered, Scarlett felt the trip went relatively well. There were a few incidents, mostly when they stopped for meals or for the night, but nobody was seriously hurt and they didn't get arrested once - smooth sailing, in other words.

They were almost in view of the above ground portion of the Pit when Timber's instincts kicked in and he started howling at the nearly full moon. Snake Eyes pulled over, got out and let Timber out as well. He scratched the wolf's ears for a few seconds and then pressed his sleeping point. Timber instantly slumped in his arms and was deposited on the ground.

"That would come in real handy with kids, too," Scarlett commented.

Snake Eyes paused for a second before regaining his composure and walking to the trunk. He pulled out his empty duffel bag and placed Timber inside of it. The bag was made of a porous fabric that let the air through, but Snake Eyes had poked a few holes in it anyway for added comfort, precisely because the bag was meant for the wolf. He zipped it and deposited it back on the back seat before climbing in himself and positioning part of the bag across his lap, following the plan they had agreed upon on the way.

Scarlett took the driver's seat and started the car back on the final stretch to the Pit. When the guard's booth came into view, Snake Eyes stretched and slumped as much as the seat belt would allow, pretending to be asleep.

Scarlett stopped by the gate and smiled at the greenshirt on guard duty.

"Good evening, Sergeant," the soldier said. He peeked in the back window and smirked. "What do you know? Ninjas do sleep! How did the convention go?"

Scarlett widened her smile. Officially, the two of them had been on leave together because they were both attending a martial arts convention; in reality, they had spent a grand total of three hours there before pushing on to Snake Eyes' cabin.

"We had a great time," she answered. "Here, let me open the trunk for you."

She popped the trunk opened and leaned back into her seat. The greenshirt dutifully opened their two suitcases to check on the content, closed the trunk back up and walked back to her.

"Do you need to look at the bag too?" she asked him. "We can wake him up if we have to."

The greenshirt actually turned a bit white at the thought of forcibly waking up the deadly ninja to poke inside his personal belongings.

"Well… it's kind of like your purse. I… I assume you packed your personal bags yourselves and didn't leave them unattended?"

"Yep." She said, putting just enough relief in her voice to convey she was glad not to have to wake up her traveling companion.

"That's fine then," he said, visibly relaxing. "You go on in, Sergeant."

He went back to his cabin and opened the gate. Scarlett drove through, feeling both amused and exasperated – it was no wonder some of the Joes constantly managed to sneak in all kinds of supposedly forbidden merchandise. She'd have to have a word with Hawk on this… once Timber was back in the High Sierras.

* * *

Storm Shadow stopped and tilted his head, listening to the floor above him. Snake Eyes' room was right above, but it contained an unusual occupant – a dog, by the sounds of the whimpering. It wasn't Junkyard, either – Mutt was nowhere near, for one thing, and the canine's voice was all wrong, not to mention the pulse had a stronger quality to it.

He had already been heading to his brother's quarters to welcome him back, having been off base himself since Snake Eyes had returned the previous night, so curiosity merely made him walk faster. He knocked when he got there and a vicious howl answered. His eyes widened a bit and when Snake Eyes opened the door, he peered right around him to the animal lying on a makeshift dog bed, Scarlett at its side.

"Good to see you, brother… would you care to comment on your choice of souvenirs? Maybe it's just me, but a wolf really seems a bit impractical. I would have picked a t-shirt, personally."

Snake Eyes made a shushing motion, shooed him in and hurriedly closed the door. Scarlett rolled her eyes at him.

"Honestly, why don't you just broadcast it while you're at it?"

"Am I to conclude this animal is not actually allowed to be here?" Storm Shadow asked, smirking. "Brother, you always come up with the most unique ways to get into trouble… I assume you can guarantee he won't attack anyone?"

Snake Eyes nodded.

"What happened to him?" Storm Shadow asked.

"Leg-hold trap," Scarlett explained.

Snake Eyes sighed and signed the word 'again'.

Storm Shadow knelt by the animal and scratched his ear, casually but very quickly pulling his hand back when Timber tried to bite it off.

"You have a talent for finding traps, do you? Is that how you became friends with my brother? Did he get you out of one of them before?" he asked the wolf. "For shame, brother," he added, tilting his head to face Snake eyes and looking deadly serious again. "A ninja's wolf does not step on traps."

Snake Eyes tilted his head back in an exaggerated eye-rolling motion.

"Not funny, Storm Shadow," Scarlett snarled. "If you're going to hang around, how about making yourself useful? You COULD pick us up some lunch."

"With pleasure," Storm Shadow answered, getting up.

"Whatever the regular entree is today," Scarlett said sternly.

Snake Eyes nodded energetically, signing to request extra meat for Timber.

"Suit yourselves," Storm Shadow sighed. "Salt-drenched generic pseudo food it is for you both, rather than actual nutrients. Will our four legged lunch companion eat cooked meat? It would draw less attention."

Snake Eyes nodded and Storm Shadow left, coming back a bit later with two helpings of spaghetti and a generous mound of extra meatballs, along with two salads, three apples and what appeared to be tofu stir-fry.

"Thank goodness for the vegetarian option." He grumbled, handing the spaghetti and the unrequested salads to Scarlett and Snake Eyes, putting the bowl of meatballs in front of Timber and settling down with his own lunch.

"You don't usually have a problem with spaghetti," Scarlett remarked, "so what's the problem now? The pasta's not even reheated," she added after a taste.

Snake Eyes snickered silently and signed that the mighty Storm Shadow had a deathly fear of cholesterol.

Storm Shadow rolled his eyes at him.

"Last night was the third time we had red meat this week: having it for lunch now would make four. I'm not short on iron and I happen to LIKE my blood flowing freely through my arteries, so three is my absolute limit. It's not fear, it's simple common sense."

Snake Eyes snickered again and Scarlett shrugged, digging into her food and ignoring her salad.

* * *

"There must be some kind of psychic connection between you and him," Storm Shadow commented in a sage tone at the gym later that day. "It can't be a coincidence that your clumsiness was so precise."

Snake Eyes signed irritably to drop it before someone overheard them, passing by him to head for the infirmary, holding his left wrist. He turned around, however, and signed further that not knowing the parallel bar was loose was not his being clumsy, it was the equipment being poorly maintained. He gingerly grabbed his wrist again and scowled under his mask – he'd probably have to sign one-handed for the next little while.

Storm Shadow thought for a second. Snake Eyes had, in all fairness, been going too fast to completely stop before hitting the wall and the injured wrist was marginally better than the concussion he could have had if he hadn't manage a truly spectacular partial twist.

"You're right," he conceded, "this wasn't clumsiness: it was a frankly alarming lack of instinct. You should have avoided the bar. It wasn't even part of your actual routine, you just decided to embellish. Didn't you feel anything at all?"

Snake Eyes' fists clenched briefly. He had, as a matter of fact, felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle a tiny bit when he had first decided to jump for the bar and had ignored it. He shook his head in disgust, hoping Tommy would interpret it as complete disagreement, and left the gym.


	2. Chapter 2: Investigation

David Thompson had joined the army with one single purpose in mind: make it to the elite unit known as GI Joe, where the enigmatic Snake Eyes served. He had studied the man for years and had pieced together enough information to confirm some very interesting theories indeed, and he was intent on confronting him about these.

He'd been thrilled when his skills in infiltration and close combat had landed him a position within the team. As a greenshirt, he was not entrusted with much secret information, but because his skills were directly related to Snake Eyes' specialty, he was confident he'd end up training with the silent man. Also, at least one of the theories he agreed with had been casually confirmed several times by longer standing Joes: Snake Eyes, just as the evidence clearly demonstrated, was indeed a ninja. The clan that had trained him had also trained the ex-Cobra Storm Shadow, and the two considered themselves brothers.

Thompson chuckled to himself as he patrolled the grounds on the warm summer night. He had already known that the two were somehow linked, so that brought his score to two rights. He felt chances were good he'd soon be able to prove to anybody's satisfaction the rest of the theories about Snake Eyes that his research had confirmed.

As if to prove this optimistic thinking right, he suddenly heard howling. He grinned and carefully headed in the direction of the howl, hoping to catch a glimpse of the infamous Sierras Werewolf, also known to a select few - such as himself - as the GI Joe Sergeant Snake Eyes.

* * *

Nancy Clearwater's eyebrows disappeared under her bangs.

"No. Way," she breathed.

Thompson smiled smugly and nodded.

"Saw it myself, howling at the full moon. Looks just like a wolf. Well, a wolf with a bandaged paw, at the moment."

"Really? I thought they were supposed to be bigger, with longer limbs."

"That's just how they're portrayed in fiction, and you're missing the point: bandaged paw, front left…just like Sergeant Snake Eyes."

Clearwater's eyes went a bit wider still. A third voice inserted itself in the conversation.

"Whoa. That IS freaky. I figured you were crazy to see a wolf and automatically think it was a werewolf, but…"

"Electrified fence, Hart," Thompson said, wagging his finger at him. "No animal other than birds and insects can get on the grounds. I knew the second I heard it howl that this wolf had to be a resident of the base."

"Right," Clearwater piped in, nodding energetically.

"I assume you have checked the files and that nobody on base actually does have a pet wolf, or a dog that looks like one?" a fourth voice chimed in.

Thompson, Clearwater and Hart turned as one, gaping at their fellow greenshirt: Maggie Holmes, who had turned being antisocial into an art form. As a matter of fact, her expression conveyed she felt she was bestowing them a great honour by addressing them.

"Of course I did," Thompson sneered. "Before I even started here. There are no pet wolves and only two dogs on base, and neither of them looks remotely like a wolf."

"It didn't occur to you that you would now have access to slightly less public information?" Holmes asked. "Let's look again, shall we?"

As she said it, she turned her attention to her perennially-present laptop and played around with the mousepad and the keyboard for a bit.

"Well, your information was accurate in at least that regard," she said after a few moments. "Two non wolf-like dogs, no wolves."

"My info is always right."

"Do you really think Sergeant Snake Eyes is a werewolf?" Clearwater asked.

"I'll admit, he does show several signs," Hart replied. "Not that it proves anything, but… isolationist tendencies, secrecy and hidden face, physical prowess, speech impediment…"

"His vocal cords were supposedly damaged, but older files fail to demonstrate he ever talked before the alleged incident," Thompson interrupted.

"I heard he had a fight with Scarlett," Clearwater said, "and that's why he's been meditating so much and listening to that relaxation tape. Maybe it's because she found out he's a werewolf?"

Holmes fixed her eyes on her screen to avoid rolling them: Clearwater believed every rumour she heard. She was constantly telling everybody in their dorm, in complete seriousness, about every bogus warning that could be found on the internet, and she regularly informed them that Cover Girl was secretly engaged, citing a different husband-to-be every time.

"I've heard the meditation explanation for why he's been smelling like incense since he's been back too," said Hart, "but I don't think it's related to Scarlett, they don't look like they're fighting at all."

"It's possible his condition has worsened and he's meditating to try and keep control," Thompson said.

"IF he's really a werewolf," Hart specified.

Thompson let out a long suffering sigh. "Have you been listening at all?" he asked in an exasperated tone.

Holmes cut off Hart's reply.

"If you wish," she said calmly, leaning back on her chair and joining her fingers thoughtfully, "I will investigate. I should be able to confirm or disprove that theory, especially if you all agree to assist me. Snipers have good eyesight, always useful, so I could use you, Hart. As for you, Clearwater, I expect you will be able to inspect the fence for flaws and to find out whether it faulted recently…"

"She's a mechanic, not an electrician," Hart interrupted.

"And you're not in intelligence, last I checked," Thompson added.

"Investigation is a hobby, and for future references, Hart, Clearwater has both licenses, in addition to also being a certified plumber and carpenter. She's like the ultimate handy woman," Holmes replied dismissively. "I was wondering until I found that out why GI Joe had been interested in you, Clearwater. As for you, Thompson, you obviously have a lot of insight on the subject and you're basically trained as a spy. You may come in handy as well."

Thompson rolled his eyes, but he couldn't deny that having a bit of extra help to do some legwork investigation would be nice.

"If you all want to help, you're welcome to," he said. "It's nice for a change to have people with some sense around me. Even you, Holmes."

* * *

That night, Holmes could be found out on the grounds, ears peeled in an attempt to hear the howl that had led Thompson to the alleged werewolf the previous night.

She frowned as she thought of the covert operation specialist, still stung by his remark that she was not in intelligence. It was technically true, but it was only due to a stream of bad luck that had prevented her from following her preferred career path.

For one thing, her first interview for an investigator's position had been grossly unfair: the interviewers had looked rightly impressed with her right until they had presented her with a scenario to solve; the supposed solution – which they had revealed to her afterward - was completely crazy, straight out of a bad soap opera. The solution SHE had presented was the logical one, the only one left once you eliminated the impossible…unless of course the scenario happened to have been dreamed up by a particularly twisted and nonsensical writer.

Her second interview, over a year later, had been even worst. Who in their right mind presents would-be investigators with a scenario where there ARE no guilty parties and the murder turns out to be an accident, but where there are ten different likely suspects? Logic dictated exactly what she had presented as an answer: several of the suspects were in cahoots. The interviewers had not only refused to see things her way, they had cut the interview short when she wouldn't give up on explaining why she was right.

Disgusted with investigative police work, she hadn't known where to turn for a while and had accepted an IT job at the Pentagon. By the time she had fixed a few security holes, tinkered a few servers and rewritten some of their older software, she'd had an offer to join GI Joe, which she had accepted with the hope that she'd be able to get involved with the intelligence sub unit.

This investigation could be her ticket into her dream career. She did not know yet whether Snake Eyes was a werewolf, but based on Thompson's observations, it was a possibility. An unlikely one, but as her favourite detective would say, once you eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, had to be true. Holmes intended to eliminate all the impossibilities and to be able to conclude either that her fellow greenshirts were crazy and to convince them they were wrong, or that they actually were right. Although the first scenario would be impressive, seeing it involved convincing a conspiracy theorist to abandon a theory, Holmes was rather hoping Snake Eyes would turn out to be a werewolf. Proving something like that, when the ninja had gotten away with this secret for years, would basically guarantee her an intel job.

It wasn't that she didn't like working with computers, and there was no denying she was good at it, but the reason for that was why she knew she would be good in investigation as well: all she ever did was apply logic principles, observation and deduction to the problems she found in hardware and software. It was child's play to her, a waste of her capacities.

While this? This was the life. Out in the field, looking for tracks…and finding them. She stopped and grinned at the clear paw prints and followed them backwards. They faded in the dryer ground and disappeared altogether on the pavement, but a few stray hair here and there were enough for an expert like herself to confirm the wolf had come out of a maintenance door that just happened to be the closest low-traffic door to Sergeant Snake Eyes's quarters.

She went back to the tracks and carefully followed them - forward this time - until she caught a sight of the beast itself, sniffing at the ground, its white bandage standing out sharply in the full moon's light. As she looked, trying to spot behaviour patterns that would identify it as an animal or a monster, it raised its head and looked straight at her.

She bolted.

* * *

"I still don't know about this," Simon Hart said the following morning, over breakfast. "I mean, yes, there's obviously a wolf around, but…"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Thompson sighed. "This from the guy who thinks lacing his right shoe first is vitally important AND who thinks the PT course is haunted!"

"It IS haunted, and there's nothing wrong with liking order as long as it doesn't have a negative impact on your life," Hart said, shrugging. "As I was saying, all we know is that there's a wolf on the grounds."

"And how would you explain that?" Holmes asked.

"Maybe someone has an unregistered pet wolf?"

"The dogs would have smelled it, Storm Shadow would have heard it, and someone would have seen it."

"You guys did see it. And why would Storm Shadow in particular have heard it? You're still thinking it's connected to Snake Eyes?"

Holmes rolled her eyes, imitated by Thompson.

"Storm Shadow can hear a person's heartbeat two floors down from where they are. If anyone's heard a wolf, it's him," Thompson explained.

"Not TWO floors down," Holmes scoffed. "That's just silly. Just the same, that's a good point: Storm Shadow probably knows about his friend's predicament."

"Or pet," Clearwater cut in. Hart nodded energetically.

"I think we can dismiss that possibility," Holmes stated. "If it were a pet, Storm Shadow would have reported it to General Hawk. He swore loyalty to him, he wouldn't let even Snake Eyes bring a dangerous animal on base without permission."

"Well-known fact," Thompson agreed. "Ninja discipline: once you've sworn loyalty, you obey perfectly."

"Unless of course doing so goes against another unbreakable oath of loyalty," Holmes continued. "If Snake Eyes had smuggled in a wolf, Storm Shadow would report it because it's the rules and doing so would not harm his brother – at the worst, it would piss him off. But! If Snake Eyes is a werewolf, reporting him could lead to his being killed – be it out of mercy or to protect the rest of the base. No can do."

"Ninjas break rules all the time," Hart objected.

"No, they don't," Thompson argued. "They skip medical leave, but that's only because they know what their body can take better than the medics. They'll fool around a bit to show off, but they don't actually go square against rules and orders, IF they come from someone they have agreed to serve… ninja masters break even thinking of disobeying right out of you. Perfect discipline. Look, I've researched this; I know what I'm talking about. I guarantee you, if Snake Eyes had a pet wolf, or anybody else of course, Storm Shadow would have reported it."

"So… no pet wolf, but there's a wolf coming in and out of the base," Hart piped in, looking a bit paler the more he thought this might indeed be real. "Are you SURE about this?"

"Not yet. I haven't seen the tracks inside the base, so there is still a possibility that a wolf has just been walking up to a door. That would require said animal to have entered the grounds, however. Clearwater, have you checked the fence yet?"

"I checked its status in the security computer. According to that, there's no hole and it hasn't failed recently."

"Someone might have created a hole and tricked the system," Holmes mused, "whether or not it's related to a wolf. We need to investigate every possibility before we reach a conclusion. I suggest you inspect the fence visually over the next few days. Is that something we can help with or is your expertise needed?"

"You can help," Clearwater answered. "I can give you sensors that will detect whether the current is going through any particular section. If a section is on, you can be sure it's through every bit of that section that's connected at all to the rest. You just need to walk along the fence, check each section, and check for holes in the fence itself or in the ground in case something dug under it. It goes six feet into the ground, so that's doubtful, but it's not totally impossible."

"So the only challenge is getting to the fence," Holmes reflected. The electrified fence was about ten feet outside a non-electrified inside fence.

"Not a problem: we can just jump the inside fence," Thompson said.

"Good," Holmes said. "Clearwater, get us those sensors today, we'll sweep tonight."

"Agreed," Thompson said, shooting a glare at Holmes. "And Holmes… I appreciate the help, but stop ordering us around, will you?"

Holmes shrugged amiably, but made a mental note to make sure she allowed Thompson to maintain an illusion of being in charge to avoid problems.

* * *

The four accomplices spent a few hours thoroughly inspecting the electrified fence that night, and concluded that it was fully functional and that there were no deep hole that would have allowed a wolf to sneak in underneath.

Their discussion, the following morning, was entirely made of nervous whispers. Holmes alone seemed to still be calm.

"It's official, isn't it?" Clearwater said. "It can't be a wolf sneaking in and out, yet it's not there during the day."

"Okay, wait. Let me think this through," Hart said. "Fact one: it's not outside the grounds during the day and in at night because it can't get in and out. Fact two: there's no wolf in the grounds during the day because people would have seen it. Fact three: there's not one inside the base either, because Storm Shadow would have heard it and reported it and it would have been kicked out. Fact four: Snake Eyes has the same bandage on the same paw…err, arm… limb as the wolf."

"Fact Three is not quite established yet," Holmes interrupted, "and Fact Four is circumstantial."

"Not THAT circumstantial," Thompson said. "He reported a training accident, and it would be his first in… ever. We're not talking about some clumsy shmoe, here, this is Snake Eyes. He's not just a ninja, he's the best ninja in the whole World. He can't have actually injured himself just because a piece of equipment came loose. He just can't."

"Fanboy," Clearwater snickered.

"Still, point taken," Holmes conceded. "That injury report IS highly suspicious. And you know what? Storm Shadow was the witness."

"He just keeps popping up, doesn't he?" Thompson mused. "We should talk to him."

"You want to interrogate a ninja?" Hart asked, his eyes wide.

"Me? No. I do believe this falls within Holmes' expertise."

Holmes raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" she asked. Her tone clearly indicated the reason had better be a good one.

"You like investigating, so he'll have more trouble lying to you than to Clearwater," Thompson explained.

"Why not you or Hart?" Holmes countered.

"Because he's a guy, and he's single," Thompson snickered. "He's more likely to be nice to a random girl than to a random guy."

Holmes sighed. She didn't like the idea much, but she couldn't really think of a good counter argument and she liked the idea of chickening out even less than that of talking to the former Cobra agent.

"Fine," she said. "However, I have work for you too, Thompson. Last night wasn't really the full moon anymore, yet we still heard the wolf. Find out what you can about whether that's even possible with werewolves and…"

"It is," Hart interrupted. "It's only phase I victims that only turn on full moon nights: the metamorphosis occurs every night in phase II victims, and phase III victims can turn during the day if they're in the shade or even if it's really cloudy."

Thompson nodded smugly.

"Absolutely correct. A Phase III case has been reported just ten years ago in Russia: a man turned into a wolf while driving under a tunnel, as witnessed by his wife. He crashed the car as he was coming out of the tunnel, but of course the sunlight turned him back at that point."

"I'm pretty sure last night was close enough to a full moon to turn a Phase I anyway," Hart said in conclusion.

Clearwater gulped, suddenly picturing Snake Eyes transforming into a wolf in the middle of a hand-to-hand session because of a power outage.

"All right then, just sit here while I go hassle the deadly ninja," Holmes sighed. "You owe me for this."

Clearwater nodded enthusiastically, while Thompson shrugged and Hart refused to meet her eyes.

* * *

Holmes hung back at the end of the evening's hand-to-hand session, rubbing the shoulder she had landed on the most often. The other one hurt too, but not quite as much. She approached Storm Shadow as he was putting the wooden swords away.

"Err… Sergeant?"

He turned towards her, one eyebrow raised.

"What is it, Holmes?" he asked. "If your shoulder really hurts, you'd better go to the infirmary."

She stopped rubbing the sore joint and shook her head.

"It's not that," she stuttered. This was a lot harder than she had ever imagined. She had often played out interrogations in her head, but they did not usually involve a ninja or supernatural concepts.

Storm Shadow held back a sigh, turned fully to face the greenshirt and did his best not to look like this was an unacceptable waste of his time. There was, after all, the off chance that whatever Holmes had to say was important.

Holmes swallowed, took a deep breath, reminded herself that Storm Shadow wouldn't risk the consequences of beating up a team member, and forced herself into interrogator mode.

"Have you heard a wolf on the grounds these past few nights?"

Storm Shadow cocked his head.

"No, I can't say that I have. To be honest, I can't hear much of anything that goes on outside from down here, and I'm not usually up past the third basement in the evenings. Why? You didn't hear one, did you?" He resisted the temptation to try and talk her out of thinking she had heard a wolf so as not to raise suspicion by protesting too much.

"Heard and saw," Holmes said. "How do you think it got past the fence?"

Storm Shadow widened his eyes.

"You SAW it? Inside the fence?" Again, he resisted elaborating and suggesting she had seen one of the two dogs. "It must have dug under it."

"We didn't find any hole. How did Sergeant Snake Eyes injure his left wrist?"

Storm Shadow carefully dosed his expression of surprise to convey nothing more than his being caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. In reality, he was a bit taken aback by the fact the transition from the wolf to Snake Eyes did not sound random at all; obviously, Holmes saw a connection there. Did she think Snake Eyes had been bitten by Timber and was hiding it? Had she figured out who the animal belonged to?

"A bar came loose in the gym," he said. "I assure you he didn't get into a fight with any wild animal," he added with a smirk. He resisted asking her why she was even asking these questions, for no reason other than the fact they would not have bothered him in the least had he not been hiding something.

"Shouldn't his ninja instincts, or senses, or whatever you want to call it, have warned him about a bar not being properly attached?"

Storm Shadow scowled.

"Yes," he said. "They should have."

"The wolf I saw had his left front paw bandaged as well," Holmes said.

He blinked at her, pretending to be lost and cursing on the inside – she knew Snake Eyes had been looking after the wolf, her questions made no sense otherwise. Why she was beating around the bush so much, he had no idea.

"You think he bandaged the wolf and got hurt doing it?" he asked hesitantly, as though taking a wild stab in the dark. "I'll be the first to admit he's a bit of an animal lover, but I can assure you, he got hurt in the gym. I haven't heard anyone else talking about bandaging a wolf, either."

Holmes held back a smirk – Storm Shadow was certainly a good liar, but he was jumping much too easily to the wrong conclusions on her train of thoughts.

"I just wanted to confirm that Sergeant Snake Eyes really did get hurt in the gym. Thank you."

She bowed in an effort to be more amiable to him and left, grinning as soon as her back was turned to him. Storm Shadow had deliberately ignored the fact the wolf and Snake Eyes had the same bandage on the same limb, and he hadn't said that he didn't hear a wolf: instead, he had said he couldn't admit to hearing it, confirming her earlier guess that he was covering for the animal – something he wouldn't do unless the wolf was his brother himself. She had herself a werewolf and her chance to prove she could work in intelligence.

Storm Shadow frowned at her back: her pulse and breathing had been all over the place during their short conversation and he couldn't make much sense out of it, but she definitely sounded happy when she'd left, which didn't bode well for his brother and Timber. He cursed inwardly – he'd TOLD Snake Eyes that letting Timber out was a bad idea, but his brother had felt it abusive to keep the wolf cooped up all day and all night and had refused to hear reason, merely renewing his assurance that Timber would not hurt anybody.


	3. Chapter 3: The Best Laid Plans

**Chapter 3: The Best Laid Plans…**

"It is confirmed," Holmes said, sitting down next to Clearwater, Hart and Thompson in the deserted mess hall.

Clearwater's eyes went wide; Hart visibly tensed; Thompson snickered.

"Can we stop wasting time and start doing something about it, then?" he asked.

"Hold on a second," Hart protested. "What did Storm Shadow say?"

"Anything he could think of to throw me off track," Holmes replied. "He conveniently failed to react when I mentioned the wolf and his dear brother had the exact same injury, and he was altogether too cool about it all. It was plain as day that he was trying to play innocent, and therefore, that he knows something. We've already agreed his oath to Hawk means he wouldn't cover for Snake Eyes if this was just about an unauthorized pet; therefore, what he knows can only be that Snake Eyes is himself the wolf. Q.E.D."

Clearwater audibly gulped. Hart grew a bit pale.

"We need silver bullets," he whispered. "I can hit him, but…"

"Are you insane?" Thompson whispered harshly. "You want to kill him? Snake Eye is a hero! We're NOT killing him just because he's… just because he has an inconvenient disease!"

Holmes rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

"But what about everyone else?" Clearwater asked. "I don't want to kill him either, but we have to do SOMETHING! What if he starts attacking people?"

"Especially when you consider that he IS a ninja," Hart added.

"What we're going to do is inform the higher ups and let THEM deal with it," Holmes said. "Anything else would get us all thrown out of here at best."

Thompson nodded. "Agreed, but we're going to need some solid evidence: nobody will just take our word that Sergeant Snake Eyes is a werewolf, even with all the best arguments in the World. Trust me on this, people never believe anything that goes against what they think they know unless you got incontestable proof."

"Catching the transformation on film might do the trick," Clearwater suggested.

Thompson shook his head. "That didn't work for that autopsy on an alien, it never works for Big Foot, it never works for Nessie and it never works for UFOs. It won't work for a werewolf either: people will believe it's all special effects."

"How about getting DNA samples from the wolf form and the human form?" Hart tried.

Thompson rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Hart, I would have expected you to know better. The transformation changes the DNA, as demonstrated by the samples taken from the two forms of the Denver werewolf four years ago."

Hart resisted the urge to argue the Denver werewolf was a fake; he had no desire to enter into a pointless argument with Thompson. Instead, he merely adopted an enlightened expression that seemed to deeply satisfy the conspiracy lover.

"We need to arrange for the transformation to occur in front of witnesses," Holmes said. "In theory, it's simple enough: we capture the wolf form and expose him somewhere someone will see him at dawn. We just need to figure out how to capture him, and to make sure he's not seen well before dawn and moved to a secluded area or released."

"Won't he be naked when he transforms back?" Clearwater asked, flushing at the thought. "I mean, he never even takes off his mask… he's going to kill us."

"I think he's going to be even angrier that we're exposing him as a monster," Hart pointed out. "We may want to make sure we have him in a very solid cage with a very good lock."

"He wouldn't hurt team mates," Thompson said, shrugging. "That much should be clear to all of you. Just think about it: even as a wolf, he hasn't hurt anybody yet. That says something. I don't know how long he'll be able to control himself, but the fact that he has so far is nothing short of incredible."

"Yes, yes, we all realize how truly amazing he is," Holmes said flatly. "Moving right along, how do we capture him?"

"Tranq gun," Hart automatically replied. "I'm not sure it'll work, though. Werewolves are usually resistant to all weapons except silver ones."

"A tranq gun's not really a weapon, though," Clearwater said.

"That's why I think it still might work," Hart said. "A werewolf's skin can be penetrated relatively easily, they just heal instantly if you use anything else than silver. But! It doesn't matter if the small hole from the dart heals right away, the drug would still act. Only thing is, they're immune to poison, too. I'm not sure whether that includes sleeping drugs."

"I don't think it would," Thompson said thoughtfully. "I would expect the resistance to poison would be triggered by their effects, and the drug's only effect would be to put him to sleep. I can't see that qualifying as something to be countered by his immune system; if it did, he'd never be able to fall asleep at all as a wolf."

"I would tend to agree," Holmes said. "In any case, it's certainly worth a try."

"Are there any tranq guns around, though?" Clearwater asked.

"There's supposed to be a rifle in the infirmary office," Thompson answered.

Holmes typed at her laptop for a few seconds before nodding.

"There is," she confirmed. "Oh, I see why you knew…I thought it was a bit of a random piece of trivia, even for you, but it says here it was brought in to control the more slippery patients, including Snake Eyes."

"Alright," Thompson said, ignoring the jibe. "In that case, here's the plan…"

* * *

The following afternoon, Nancy Clearwater casually strode up to the locksmith shop's counter and got in line with the other trades people looking for permissions or keys to locked areas or cabinets. Getting around in any area that was somewhat restricted was a bit of a challenge at the Pit: doors were locked with both physical locks and electronic ones, and very few people had unconditional access to any given one of those areas. For instance, only the medical personnel had access to the infirmary office after hours** –** and the rifle cabinet inside was understandably kept locked at all times.

The general consensus among the trades people who had to constantly get keys and extra permissions programmed for their prox cards was that this was all the ninjas' fault: security wasn't considered good enough until it gave them at least a bit of a challenge when they tested it.

Therefore, security was rock solid... in theory. In reality, the maintenance personnel often chose efficiency over useless red tape and hindrances and therefore, shortcuts had been created in an effort to speed things up a little. Nothing that was against the rules, of course, but little things that, in this case, meant Clearwater would be able to make Thompson's life just a bit easier tonight.

For instance, if it was possible to send just one person to do several jobs in one area, that's what the scheduling supervisors did – the keys and card swipe routine then only had to be done once rather than two or three times. Knowing this, Hart, Thompson and Holmes had respectively reported a blinking light, a leaky faucet and registered a complaint about the AC being too strong in the infirmary office. As Thompson had predicted when he had explained that part of the plan, Clearwater had been issued the work orders to go check it all out.

"Hi Nancy," Jamie Collins said, smiling broadly. "What are you up to today?"

Clearwater smiled back and handed her work orders and her prox card as she answered.

"Just a few things to check in the infirmary office," she said nonchalantly, "but I have some other stuff I'm supposed to do first, so I'm not sure I'll get there before five."

Collins glanced at the work orders to confirm the location was right and left for the back of the shop, where the keys and the prox card reader were located. He swiped her card, clicked and typed around a bit on the computer next to the reader, and grabbed one of the infirmary's key sets.

"There you go," he said, depositing the keys and her card on the counter in front of her. "You have electronic access until midnight and you can drop the keys in the chute when you're done."

Clearwater smiled, relieved in spite of herself. Electronic access was always set to midnight because it was the default in the system and changing it took several clicks in the database's front end. Also to gain time, keys were always issued as the full set for each room so that the control clerks did not have to try and figure out which ones would be needed for each particular job. Just the same, she had been a little bit worried that Murphy's Law would kick in and that she'd only be given the keys and access she actually needed, depriving Thompson of the access he'd need later that night.

"Thanks, Jamie!" she said, re-attaching her prox card and pocketing the keys. "See you tomorrow!"

* * *

Thompson left his dorm room at 2300 that night, after making sure his dorm mates were all asleep. He grinned the whole way as he sneaked to the infirmary office, absolutely delighted with the way things were working out.

As Clearwater and Hart had pointed out, it was reasonable to expect Snake Eyes would be very angry at being exposed. When you came right down to it, however, it was a necessary pill to swallow for the ninja: once the initial unpleasantness was over with, he'd get the help he needed before his condition deteriorated to the point where he couldn't control his wolf form at all and ended up hurting those he loved. Thompson had never seen a reported case of a werewolf actually being cured, but he had unearthed the recipe for wolfsbane potion years ago, and that would at least keep Snake Eyes stable until a cure could be found, which was sure to happen sooner than later once the American military backed the research.

He was still smiling as he let himself into Doc and Lifeline's office using Clearwater's prox card and the keys she'd given him. Holmes had confirmed she'd wipe the record of this access from the door access database and that she'd have the camera in here recording a loop of its own recordings until 0005, so he flicked on his flashlight and walked without concern to the wall cabinet. He inspected the lock on it, but it was not engraved with a key number so he just tried keys until he found the right one.

Predictably, the rifle was in the cabinet by itself, with no tranq darts. Thompson deposited it on the desk and started trying the drawers. He found the darts in the bottom one, the only one that was locked. He took the whole box, picked up the rifle again, closed everything he had opened, turned off his flashlight and slipped out, heading for the common bathrooms a few doors down.

As agreed, Hart was waiting for him in the wheelchair accessible stall. Thompson passed him the rifle and the darts, gave him a pat on the shoulder as a silent good luck wish, flushed the toilet just in case Storm Shadow had heard someone walk into the bathroom – the ninja's quarters were just around the corner, one floor down – and headed to a storage room where cages were kept – they were a relic of the time Cobra had taken to using wild cats as extra assault forces and hadn't been used in years, but they were still kicking around. Thompson felt this was a rather strong indication that someone suspected they'd be needed again.

* * *

Simon Hart tore his eyes away from the sink with great difficulty – he hadn't actually used the bathroom, nor had he touched any of the fixtures, so washing his hands would only have been a ridiculous and potentially dangerous waste of time: the last thing he needed was for someone to walk in on him while he was uselessly washing his hands, the stolen rifle next to the sink.

Just the same, leaving without following the ritual was extremely difficult. It wasn't right, and he didn't like to think that it might break his carefully entrenched habit. He was usually very careful about cleaning up after using the bathroom, to the point that if he suspected at all that he had forgotten a step, he typically went right back in to wash up again. This had led to his being very careful to follow an established pattern precisely and to pay close attention while he was doing it, because he hated it when he had to do it again. He knew he was most likely being silly when he did go back to wash his hands again, and he was pretty sure the people who saw him do it thought he was ridiculous or terrified of germs.

He stood by the door, ready to open it. He needed to hurry: he still had to make his way out while dodging the hall patrols, find Snake Eyes, take the shot and help drag the wolf to the cage Thompson would have ready by then; all before 0000 so they could return the rifle to the infirmary office and avoid Clearwater being suspected of having taken it.

He took a deep breath, counted to three and put his hand on the door, intending to push. Seeing his hand, however, reminded him that he'd probably spend the next few weeks wondering every time he came out of a bathroom whether he might be leaving without washing his hands again, questioning whether the memory of doing so really was only from tonight. He bit his lips and narrowed his eyes at himself – he was being stupid, and worse, he was jeopardizing the mission.

He closed his eyes, counted thrice to three and pushed the door opened, stepping out as quickly as he could. He forced himself to just keep walking and to concentrate fully on dodging the patrols, and by the time he was outside, the urge to turn around had mercifully vanished.

From there, his job was easy. He made sure the outside patrol was nowhere near and headed for the general area where the werewolf had been spotted on two separate nights by Thompson and Holmes. Once there, he climbed atop one of the trees to better scan the area. He took out one of the darts, emptied most of it to adapt the dose to a wolf, charged the rifle, got comfortable, and started scanning the area through the rifle's targeting lens. The beast finally strolled into his field of vision nearly fifteen minutes later and immediately turned its head straight towards him, growling.

Since he hadn't had a chance to test the rifle and could expect any kind of deviation, Hart aimed for the middle of the thick body and took his shot. The growl turned to a brief whimper before the wolf slumped down, dead to the World.

Hart quickly climbed down the tree and trotted towards the maintenance door where Thompson would be waiting with a cage. He had to stop halfway there, however, to hide back into a tree while the patrol strolled by. He waited until the lone guard was out of sight again before hurrying the rest of the way to his rendezvous point.

* * *

"Okay… Note… to self… werewolves… are… really heavy," Hart huffed in a low voice as he deposited the wolf's backside on the ground, right next to the opened cage.

"Wimp," Thompson breathed, grinning as he dragged the unconscious animal into the cage and pulled off the ropes that bound it. "I should have asked Clearwater to help me."

"She wouldn't have," Hart replied with a low chuckle, "not with all those email forwards going around about criminal gangs roaming the night and whatnot."

Thompson lost his grin and scowled. His voice was still a whisper, but it acquired a slight growling quality.

"Just because the police won't make a public announcement to admit they can't control criminals doesn't mean all those warnings were just dreamed up out of thin air, you know."

Hart rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on," he whispered. "I know just as well as you do that popular wisdom isn't always right and that there are in fact things that can't be explained around us. AND, I'll admit that maybe some of those warning emails are actually based on actual incidents; key word maybe. But Clearwater'll believe ANYTHING; she fell for the H20 one last week, for crying out loud."

Thompson's eyes widened and he chuckled. "Okay, that IS pretty bad. But I still prefer someone with an open mind over someone who refuses to accept the truth just because they're afraid of it."

Hart checked the lock on the cage a few times before he answered with a shrug. Thompson considered the debate won and went to check on the cameras they had hidden around the PT field, pointing at the cage they had planted in the middle of the running track. The cameras were an insurance policy: if the transformation happened before 0500, they would at least have it on film. Alternatively, if the wolf somehow escaped, that escape would be recorded as well and would either show the animal displaying supernatural strength or powers, or someone breaking him out.

Thompson came back to the cage for one last look at the werewolf before heading back inside.

"Are you sure the patrol won't spot him before morning?" Hart asked on the way to the night access door.

Thompson nodded.

"I've been paying attention to the blind spots around our route each time I did guard duty outside at night, and the PT field is one of them: we don't go close to it because it's nowhere near any door or the fence, and it's not lit. They won't see the cage until the sun rises, trust me."

"And you're sure BeachHead will be out here at five in the morning?"

"Nothing stops the Sergeant Major from running at 0500 every morning. I bet even if he got killed, his ghost would still show up for it AND to run PT." Thompson chuckled at the thought. "How's that for a haunting? 'DROP AND GIVE ME FIFTY! _YOU_ STILL GOT ARMS, USE 'EM!'." And I bet we'd all do it, too."

Hart scowled at him. "You shouldn't make jokes like that. There's already a ghost here! You might make it angry, or worse, give it ideas about getting company!"

Thompson rolled his eyes but held up his hands in a pacifying gesture.

"Okay, okay, gees. Sorry. Now hush, let me check to make sure the patrol is still on the other side of the building."

Thompson dragged Hart behind a tree and peeked around for the night patrol. Seeing no sign of it, he gestured Hart to follow and hurried to the door. They let the door scanner read their prox card and since they were after all authorized personnel, they got in without problem. Furthermore, since Holmes had promised she'd wipe all trace of their passage through that door for the night, nobody would know they had been outside.

Thompson's last task for the night was to return the rifle to the infirmary office, which he did with nearly ten minutes to spare to midnight. He then went back to bed, unnoticed by his roommates who were still soundly sleeping.

* * *

Snake Eyes was only just out of bed and ready to get dressed when he heard the soft scratch on the door. He tiptoed over and peeked out through the peep hole, his brow furrowing in puzzlement upon seeing Tommy's face. He opened the door.

His breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened: Storm Shadow was holding Timber, and the wolf was completely limp. He sighed in relief when he saw his flank was rising and falling rhythmically: Timber was just asleep.

Tommy edged past him, dragged the dog bed from under the normal bed with his foot and deposited Timber on it before turning back to face his brother.

Snake Eyes signed to ask what had happened.

"What happened is, for the most part, what I TOLD you would happen. He's been spotted."

Snake Eyes ignored the lecture and signed to ask how Tommy had found Timber and where, and whether he knew how he'd been made to sleep so soundly.

"I found him in a cage in the middle of the PT field. As for how, it's easy: one of the greenies stayed after hand-to-hand to interrogate me about Timber because she SAW him. Did I not tell you it was a bad idea to let him out? As for why he's out cold, they used the medics' tranq rifle."

Snake Eyes nodded with a sigh and signed his guess that Storm Shadow had followed the greenshirt after her interrogation and overheard her planning Timber's capture. He acquired a frown while signing that deepened with each gesture.

Storm Shadow crossed his arms.

"Ah, see? You caught on quick to THAT: yes, I knew about their plan and I let them carry it out. If you can figure THAT out so quickly, I trust you can also see, now, that this isn't working."

Snake Eyes snarled and signed the word "why".

"Why did I let them put him to sleep? To shake YOU awake!" Storm Shadow snarled back. "Tell me it worked, Brother. I'm not sensing a strong urge to go confess to Hawk coming from you, and it's worrying me."

Snake Eyes clenched his fists briefly, ignoring the pain that shot up from his left wrist, and signed that he'd just find a better hiding spot for Timber.

Storm Shadow's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding."

Snake Eyes shook his head and started signing something about how Timber could have had a bad reaction to the tranquilizer.

Storm Shadow missed most of it from smacking his own forehead and dragging his hand down over his face.

"Brother…" he sighed.

Snake Eyes clicked his tongue to get his attention and tried again to explain how irresponsible it had been to let Timber get captured. Storm Shadow felt his temper snapping about ten hand signs in.

"Enough," he growled. "I can't believe you're still thinking of hiding him, after I demonstrated beyond all doubt that it was NOT working! Everything we've been doing so far is WASTED EFFORT, Brother! You can hide his scent with incense, you can use his sleeping points to make him sleep most of the day and camouflage the occasional howl with a CD of forest night sounds, you can make him wear mittens lined with rubber so he won't scratch, you can spend half an hour a day picking up hair from yourself and your room, you can send him out at night so he won't go completely stir crazy, we can all pretend we're on a protein boost diet to explain the extra meat – which, by the way, Flint is already suspicious of - and guess what? Three days! It took three days for a GREENSHIRT to be aware of him! I've been telling you all along, we can't keep this up!"

Snake Eyes started signing, but he was too angry to organize his thoughts on the fly and after three attempts at signing something that made sense, he walked to his night table and picked up the notepad he had on it. He wrote for a bit, tore the page and crumpled it, wrote again and this time, handed it to Tommy.

_I can't believe you would even suggest I abandon Timber simply because it would be easier. I would have expected you, of all people, to understand. _

Tommy methodically crumpled the paper into a tight ball before throwing it at Snake Eyes' face. Snake Eyes caught it easily and glared at his brother.

"How can you think, for one second, that I'd tell you to abandon a friend? What I'm telling you is to tell Hawk about this before someone else does! You know just as well as I do that Hawk will go easy on you no matter what; the least you could do is lessen your offence by confessing before you're just turned in!"

Snake Eyes signed that he would not be turned in and that the best thing he could do for Hawk was to leave to him uninvolved, despite the inconvenience to them.

"How can you still think you will pull this off? You told me yesterday that Timber would take at least another week to heal completely. The greenshirts won't take that long to find him again: they're determined. You're not going to believe this, but…"

Snake Eyes interrupted him to repeat he would hide Timber better and to ask whether the greenshirts would try turning him in without catching Timber again first.

"Well, no, they know nobody's going to believe them, but…"

Snake Eyes cut him short again to point out that in that case, as long as they didn't find Timber again, everything was fine.

"Will you stop cutting me off and listen? You can't hide Timber for another week! I just told you, Flint's not buying the protein boost story! AND, Stalker's bound to remember at some point that neither you nor I have EVER used incense before and that you've never before needed nature sounds to relax. On top of that, the rumour we started about Scarlett and you having a fight to explain why you needed so much relaxation and meditation is already dying off thanks to the fact she's constantly coming here to help you with HIM!" He pointed at the sleeping Timber with an exaggerated motion that matched his rapidly deteriorating temper.

Snake Eyes had crossed his arms to resist the temptation to cut in again, out of sheer desire not to be shown up on manners by Storm Shadow. He took the opportunity to get a word in again as soon as Tommy stopped for breath.

He signed that he was just trying to keep a pointless conversation short and very slowly and deliberately, stated that yes, he thought he could pull it off and that therefore, he was absolutely not going to go burden Hawk. He quickly added that this was his final decision and that there was no point insisting when Tommy opened his mouth to protest.

Tommy's upper lip curled into a snarl. He could feel a vein throbbing on his forehead, and his hands had tensed into claws, reflecting the irrational desire to strangle his stubborn idiot of a brother. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before talking again and managed to keep his tone below screaming.

"This is the gym all over again: you're not listening to your instincts! I can't believe I can't get through your thick head when I shouldn't even NEED to!"

He turned around before Snake Eyes could sign a reply and let himself out, barely resisting the urge to slam the door shut behind him. He stormed down the hall back to his own quarters, muttering angrily to himself about brothers who were _supposed_ to be smart.

* * *

Scarlett raised an eyebrow at Snake Eyes when he sat in front of her for breakfast.

"Aren't we…" she started in a whisper.

He signed that it wasn't working anyway and launched right into a long rant about what had gone on a few hours earlier with Storm Shadow, his signs so close to his chest and so fast as to be nearly invisible even to her.

She watched intently until he was done, her breakfast forgotten.

"So… let me get this straight. He knew they were going to drug Timber, he let them do it, and HE's angry?" she asked in a low whisper that still managed to convey a very explicit desire to kick Tommy in the head.

Snake Eyes nodded, smiling under the mask he had not yet rolled up to eat. He could always count on Scarlett to understand and get the point.

"Speak of the devil," Scarlett said, pointing towards the entrance with her chin.

Snake Eyes looked back briefly and scowled: Tommy still looked in a perfectly rotten mood.

He was rather surprised when he heard him coming their way a couple of minutes later. Tommy sat down next to Scarlett, opposite him, and met his glare.

"I'm sorry, all right?" he said.

Snake Eyes blinked behind his visor: he had known that Tommy would come around and continue to help with Timber despite the previous night's explosion, but he had certainly not expected an apology.

He wasn't quite ready to accept one so easily, either. He signed to express he still could not believe his brother had watched a bunch of greenshirts shoot Timber rather than stop them.

"I didn't watch them," Tommy protested in a low whisper. "I heard them planning it, but I didn't follow them around; I went to bed and only got up in time to bring Timber back to you around the time you'd normally go out to let him in, hoping the greenies had been successful and that he would indeed be asleep in a cage."

"How is that any better?" Scarlett hissed.

Storm Shadow narrowed his eyes but otherwise ignored the interruption.

"They were planning to use just a tiny dose of tranquilizer," he whispered. "They weren't even sure he'd go to sleep, and they had a contingency plan to try again tonight if he didn't. I honestly did not think there was any danger at all that they'd harm him. I just saw an opportunity to make a point."

He scowled at Snake Eyes at that point.

"It's a shame it didn't work and you still don't see that you need to give up and fess up." He sighed. "Just the same, it's your call, not mine. You can still count on my help, even though you're being an idiot."

Snake Eyes' protest was cut short by a commotion at the end of the line for the food: Beach Head had cornered Ace and was demanding to know whether he knew anything about a cage and several empty cameras being left in the PT field.

Storm Shadow whistled softly, genuinely impressed.

"The greenies actually went through their whole PT without cracking and confessing," Scarlett whispered, impressed as well.

"It' too bad we can't tell Beach what happened," Tommy said. "It seems Timber is making trouble for more than just us, brother."

"He is NOT," Scarlett answered, glaring at her lover's best friend. "Those greenshirts are. Names, Storm Shadow."

"I think not," Storm Shadow answered. "Neither of you are any good at hiding it when you're angry with someone, and you don't want them to find out you know what they're up to."

Snake Eyes cocked his head and asked why not.

"Oh, that's right, you kept interrupting me last night when I was trying to tell you in the privacy of your quarters, where you would have been free to laugh or freak out. They think you're a werewolf. They're trying to save you and by extension, everyone else around. If they find out you know about them, they will run straight to Hawk in desperation rather than risk your killing them in their sleep. Unless of course they decide to shoot you or Timber with a silver bullet, but they seemed pretty determined not to hurt you."

Scarlett gaped at him until Snake Eyes gently lifted her chin to close her mouth again.

He then signed that in that case, it was just a matter of showing up with Timber in front of the greenshirts and then, make them promise not to tell anyone about the wolf under threat of angry ninja.

"I refuse to believe you would sink so low as to bully teammates into covering up for you," Storm Shadow said, scowling again.

Snake Eyes sagged. As simple as the solution was, Storm Shadow was right – he'd never actually do it; he was quite happy with the fact most people didn't want to mess with him based only on his appearance and general reputation, but actually threatening teammates to have his way would be plain dishonourable. After a few seconds spent thinking of a way to shut the greenshirts up OTHER than by force, he gave up and signed to say he wouldn't seek them out until Timber was safely back in California.

* * *

Author's Notes:

The intrepid greenshirts would like to express their thanks to WillWrite4Fics and CrystalofEllinon (and others I may be forgetting) for providing Lifeline and Doc with a tranq rifle to use on runaway patients. :D

Game time! Other than said rifle, this chapter contains a reference to a story posted here by another author (it could be one of the two mentioned above, or not). Can you find it? I'll give the answer next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4: To Cure a Werewolf

**Chapter 4: To Cure a Werewolf**

"Inconceivable," Holmes grumbled.

"I'll bet it was Storm Shadow," Thompson said, scowling. "I'll buy that the werewolf could have woken up and escaped: that's why I wanted the cameras there. But there's no WAY he would have found all the cameras, never mind removing the drives from them with his PAWS!"

"Could be," Holmes said. "Either way, we need a new plan or we need to try again and make sure whatever happened doesn't happen again."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Hart asked. "We don't have a clue how Storm Shadow knew what we were up to!"

Holmes' reply was interrupted by her name being called by the postal clerk.

"He overheard us planning, of course," Thompson replied for her as Holmes got up to get her letter. "We just need to make sure he doesn't again. Now, for instance, we know he's in PT so we're safe."

Holmes walked back to the table rather fast, ripping the envelope opened as she went. She tossed the envelope on the table, letting them all see that it was addressed to Maggie Holmes and the Watsons. She started reading as she was sitting down, her voice a nervous whisper.

_Dear friends,_

_I cannot reveal my identity to you: my life and quite possibly all of yours depend on it. I was once attacked by the one you seek, although I was spared his fate. I live in fear that he will lose control again, and of course my heart breaks at the thought of this human being living under such a vile curse._

_Because I keep a close eye on him whenever I can, I witnessed your capturing him and Storm Shadow releasing him. I imagine that by the time you receive this letter, you will be angry at the fact your efforts were in vain, but you should thank the Heavens that they were! We were all very lucky that he was rescued: waking up in a cage would have enraged him with disastrous consequences, just like last time. There is no telling how many lives Storm Shadow saved by setting him free._

_I cannot stress this enough: I BEG of you, do not attempt to capture him again! You will only bring pain and death unto the Pit. _

_If you wish to help, I have been able to uncover cures that have each been successful at least once on patients suffering from the same condition as him, but I lack the skills to implement them myself. I know that you share my concerns for him and everyone else here… I pray that you will find it in your heart to help me free him from this horrible condition._

_Since every night that passes increases the odds of tragedy, I will be very presumptuous and assume that you are indeed willing to help. _

_The most important thing, that you must not forget under any circumstance, is to NEVER, EVER, for the love of all that is holy, try applying any cure when he is feeling 'hairy'. The cures all call upon purity to purify the body… you do NOT want to purify the body when it is furry, or it shall never shed that fur. _

_I repeat: only ever apply the cures when he is feeling himself. _

_That being said, I believe that of all the potential cures I know of, the one that is most likely to work and that will be most easily applied by people of your amazing talents is Holy Water: all you need to do is to drench him in it… the only problem, and the reason I have been unable to do this myself, is that his condition will defend its own existence if he is aware at all that he is about to be wet. In other words, the drenching must be a complete surprise if it is to work. I'm sorry, I realize this makes things more difficult, and I am doubly sorry that it is not the only complication you will face, for I regret to say that his usual clothes are entirely waterproof._

_I have full confidence that you will be able to get past these difficulties, and I look forward to seeing the sword of Damocles that has been hanging over all our heads finally taken away. You have my eternal gratitude for reading this far, for I know you have the hearts of heroes and will not abandon me, him, and GI Joe._

_Thank you, may fate smile upon your endeavours. _

Holmes looked up from the letter to find three pairs of eyes staring at the back of the paper, as though they could extract more information from it.

"Do you… do you think he's right? Or she? That if Storm Shadow hadn't let him out, Snake Eyes would have gone on a rampage?" Clearwater asked, clearly horrified at the thought.

Hart swallowed, not rising his eyes to meet any of theirs.

"P… probably," he breathed. "I'm sorry. In hindsight, I should have known… we almost unleashed a furious werewolf on the Pit."

Thompson sighed heavily. "I should have known better too," he said. "Look, it's no good beating ourselves up; we can end this! Don't you see what a stroke of luck this letter is? There's someone who knows a bunch of cures! We can save Snake Eyes AND make the Pit safe again!"

Holmes chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking hard. If capturing the werewolf was out of the question, curing him probably WAS her best chance of being recognized for her work – Snake Eyes would surely be grateful enough to agree to admit to the newly dispelled curse and to credit them for curing him.

"I say let's do it," she said.

Clearwater nodded enthusiastically. "Any idea how?" she asked.

"Since we need him not to have his normal clothes on, and he wears them all the time, we need to catch him while he's sleeping," Thompson said, thinking out loud.

"But he's… furry, at night," Clearwater said. "Unless it's still close enough to the full moon and he's going to stop transforming in a night or two?"

"It's not close enough to the full moon anymore," Hart said. "The fact that he transformed last night means he's going to keep transforming every night. But! Werewolves need to get a bit of sleep as humans; typically at least one or two hours a night, so their human brains get the benefits."

"It's possible he naps when he's supposedly meditating," Holmes suggested, "but how do we know whether he really is or not?"

"I doubt he is," Thompson said. "He gets interrupted all the time, and he never looks or acts like he just woke up."

"Do you know his blood type?" Holmes asked.

"Yes, but what does THAT have to do with anything?" Thompson asked.

"Favourite underwear?"

Thompson scowled at her. "Aren't we funny. Ah, ah, ah. Let's ask stupid questions and waste time just to make fun of the fact Thompson knows stuff. Clearly, you're a comedic genius."

Holmes glared at him, but Clearwater cut off her response.

"So… when do YOU think he gets his sleep?" she asked Thompson.

"At this time of the year, my guess would be between dawn and 0645," he answered with a shrug, "and before you ask, Holmes, no, I don't know for sure when he wakes up; he typically shows up for breakfast around 0700, and I don't picture him just lounging."

"Yeah," Clearwater said, "he's probably one of those people who jump out of bed, take a shower and get dressed in ten minutes flat. I bet all ninjas are."

"Dawn tomorrow will start around 0505," Holmes said, reading from her laptop. "I suggest we aim for around 6:00, just in case he does wake up a while before his breakfast."

"Sounds good," Hart said. "But how are we going to drench him with holy water in his bed? Where are we even going to get holy water?"

"I'm off this afternoon," Holmes said. "I can go into town, bring or buy a bunch of water bottles and get a priest to bless the water inside of them."

"Perfect," Thompson said. "Clearwater, we need to find a way to make it fall from the ceiling above his bed at 0600."

* * *

Snake Eyes and Timber sneaked back into the ninja's quarters soundlessly around 0430. Timber turned on the spot in his bed and crashed, while Snake Eyes took his uniform and mask off before slipping back into his own bed.

He lay on his back, staring at a spot in mid-air, between his eyes and the ceiling. Exactly as he had hoped would be the case, Timber had stayed right where he was supposed to and had obviously not been found again since he had not been caged again. Just the same, something about the whole situation didn't feel quite right; he had the oddest feeling that he was missing a piece of information, that he ought to know something he did not. His thoughts became unfocused as he tried to think of what it could be and he allowed himself to fall asleep, thinking he'd figure it out in the morning when he was fully awake.

A slight shuffling in the ceiling could be heard, about one hour and a half later, as the two ceiling panels directly above the bed slid above their respective neighbours. The sound of water slushing inside five buckets followed as said buckets were flipped upside down.

Snake Eyes, awaken by the unexpected noise although he had no idea what exactly he had heard, was already crouching on the bed in a remarkably perfect defensive position when 10 gallons of blessed water poured from the ceiling, effectively soaking both him and the bed.

Timber's howl was still in his throat when Snake Eyes's hand wrapped around his maw, letting him know he needed to be silent. He swallowed back the howl and contented himself with staring at the ceiling, poised to jump and follow his pack leader, who had already disappeared through the hole.

Snake Eyes cursed silently, dearly wishing he could do it out loud: there was nobody in the ceiling. All that the bedside lamp he had turned on before jumping allowed him to see was a mechanism comprised of buckets that were now upside down, connected to a timer which was also connected to the panels that had been moved.

He jumped back down into the drenched bed, water dripping from his hair and his body. He could almost hear Tommy philosophically claiming it was karma getting back at him for having splurged on a multi-jets shower a couple of months earlier. The imaginary taunt was the straw that broke the camel's back: he needed to hit something, now. His pillow was the closest thing he didn't mind breaking and so, was viciously punched repeatedly until Timber helpfully snatched it to swing it back and forth, tearing it apart. Snake Eyes snorted, very slightly cheered up, gave him a pat and picked up the phone to call maintenance.

The call was picked up after just one ring, which even a soaked ninja couldn't help but appreciate - despite the fact the person who answered sounded like someone who'd much rather be in bed.

"Maintenance."

Snake Eyes morse-tapped on the phone transmitter that he needed his bed dried or changed, thinking as he did that he'd have to schedule the movers coming for his bed carefully, make sure Timber was out of sight and figure out how to delay any investigation until Timber was back home.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant Snake Eyes, did I get that right? You… wet your bed?"

The ninja's mood sank right back down to murderous.

* * *

Snake Eyes was long done with his breakfast by the time Storm Shadow showed up in the mess hall, followed shortly after by Scarlett. Scarlett whispered something to Storm Shadow, who nodded, and came straight over.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a whisper, sitting down in front of him. "Is he okay?"

Snake Eyes signed that Timber was fine with quick jerky movements that were his equivalent to snarling and growling.

"Then what is it?"

Tommy arrived at that point with a tray balanced on each hand. He put one down in front of Scarlett and sat down next to her with his own.

"You've got me curious as well, brother. What's the matter?"

Snake Eyes signed the whole story, his fists clenching in anger a few times between signs.

Scarlett was scowling by the time he was done. Tommy looked disgusted, but also like he could barely keep himself from laughing.

"Unreal," she said. "I don't know whose idea that was, but wait until we catch them…"

"Hold that thought," Tommy said, the disgusted part of his expression winning out. "Let me get this straight… you had 5 buckets of water and a timer set to make your ceiling panels slide and those buckets tip, all right above your head, and you didn't feel anything was wrong?" He sighed, all trace of amusement gone. "Brother… what am I going to do with you? That could just as easily have been flesh-eating acid! Your bed could have been soaked in your blood instead of just water!"

Snake Eyes sighed, resisted the temptation to smack Tommy out of melodrama-mode, and signed that he had in fact felt something was out of place, but had sensed no danger and had decided figuring it out could wait until morning. He added that since he had only gotten wet, there had indeed been no real danger.

"Well, I suppose the fact you still have your instincts and just ignore them IS marginally better than your not having them at all anymore," Tommy said grumpily. "At least there's the faint hope you'll eventually decide to start listening again."

"Back on topic," Scarlett said, "You didn't happen to hear anyone planning this, did you Tommy?"

Tommy shook his head, looking just as hurt as if he hadn't admitted the day before to wilfully letting a bunch of greenshirts shoot Timber. "Of course not."

"I say we start by questioning Shipwreck. He could be involved, and he always knows about all the betting polls on the go."

"Sounds like a plan," Storm Shadow agreed. "Can I?"

Snake Eyes signed to demand to have the first turn.

Storm Shadow pouted, but shrugged and nodded, conceding.

"It's funny though," he breathed, his voice barely audible, "that's the second time you share Timber's fate. I know you only saw the end result, but those greenshirts had quite the elaborate plan to capture him. And now, just one night later, you have this elaborate contraption setting off right above your bed. I was kidding when you hurt your wrist, but I'm starting to wonder whether your destinies really are somehow connected."

Scarlett's eyes widened. "The greenshirts… I don't suppose THEY might be behind this?"

"I don't see how," Storm Shadow said. "They would have had to see inside the room when they were setting the panels to slide, wouldn't they? So, if they set it up during the day, they would have seen Timber, and if they did it all during the night, they would have seen Snake Eyes. And even if they didn't see anything, they would have been heard by either of them. Even you aren't THAT deaf, brother. So, whenever they did it, they would have run into the form they weren't expecting and have figured out you just have a wolf, as opposed to turning into one at night. They can't go to Hawk with their crazy theory, but if they figured out the truth, don't you think they would?"

Snake Eyes didn't answer, having taken a sudden interest in a scratch on his breakfast tray. Scarlett cleared her throat.

"Actually, Snake Eyes wasn't in his room for most of last night," she breathed, throwing Tommy a look that dared him to comment.

"Ah," Tommy said, smirking. "That's right, Lady Jaye was off base last night, and your room has the distinctively attractive characteristic of not stinking of incense. I stand corrected, then: it is in fact possible our werewolf hunters were involved. Why would they do something like that, though?"

Snake Eyes smacked his forehead and signed the words for holy and for water. Storm Shadow's eyes widened.

"You think that was holy water?" he whispered.

"They're trying to cure you," Scarlett groaned, smacking her head on her palms, her elbows resting on the table.

"Aww…" Storm Shadow cooed. "You have to admit, that's adorable."

"Snake Eyes," Scarlett asked, pointedly ignoring Storm Shadow, "did you tell maintenance it was a prank? We wouldn't want the greenshirts to get caught and have them reveal they think you're a werewolf; there are a few people who know about Timber, they'd figure out what's going on."

He nodded but signed he had already told security he did not want an investigation and that although they would surely end up doing one anyway, the red tape created by his specific request would delay them at least a week.

"And when are they changing your bed?" Storm Shadow asked.

Snake Eyes signed that he'd been told anytime between 0900 and 1700 and waited: he knew Tommy well enough to know he didn't need to ask for his brother to play wolf-sitter for the day. Like him, Tommy enjoyed solo quarters for reasons that were both obvious and never discussed: namely, nobody had wanted to room with him at first and even now that most of the team was moderately comfortable around him, there was no point re-arranging sleeping arrangements for existing members and it was assumed new arrivals would rather not be the ones to rob the intimidating ex-Cobra of his privacy.

"We should do it right away, then," Storm Shadow said, proving him right, "while everybody is down here. I'd feel safer keeping him, too… I'd rather not actually bet on security being stalled for a whole week, plus this way, you won't have to insist if they actually ask you to reconsider."

Snake Eyes nodded and signed his thanks.

"You do realize you'll need the stock of incense, too?" Scarlett whispered. "And the CD, and the lint roller, and…"

She stopped when Storm Shadow nodded curtly, looking insulted that she'd think he didn't realize what he was getting into. She reached to give him a pat on the arm and smiled.

"Glad you're done sulking and still helping," she said. "I might even forgive you for my toasts being whole wheat and my eggs hard boiled," she added, looking at her half eaten breakfast.

"Better for you," Storm Shadow said, shrugging. "Besides, aren't you grateful I got you real coffee instead of decaf? Although to be honest, that was more out of concern for the safety of everyone you might encounter today than for your benefit."

"Got that right," Scarlett snorted.

The three got up, and after getting his sleeping point pinched to make sure he didn't wake up in transit, Timber was transferred to Storm Shadow's quarters without incident, along with the various implements needed to camouflage his presence.

Once Timber was settled comfortably, Snake Eyes signed to indicate he'd still take him out and bring him back at night.

"Just as well," Storm Shadow said, "I don't think he'd stay in one area all night just because I tell him too, but we already know he'll do it for you."

"Do you have an excuse ready to explain your sudden use of incense and relaxing sounds?" Scarlett asked. "And no, you don't get to pretend you and I are having a fight," she added when he smirked in a decidedly evil way.

The smirk turned into a pout.

"You're no fun," he complained. "Seriously, though, we could say I'm worried for Billy, or that I'm getting flashbacks again… or just that I'm generally freaking out. I think people would believe it."

Snake Eyes remarked that two of those possibilities would make Psyche Out insist he go from his current weekly appointments back to daily ones or worse, spur the psychiatrist into dropping in unannounced for a house call.

"Right," Storm Shadow agreed. "Worried for Billy it is, then. I'll pour it on a bit thicker than usual when I ask Hawk for a status update today, and let you guys plant the rumour my imagination is getting away with me. You two better go get ready for PT, we don't want to be late."

Snake Eyes signed his thanks again and left with Scarlett. Storm Shadow lit a couple of sticks of incense as soon as they were gone and wrinkled his nose.

"The things one must do for one's brother," he sighed, addressing the sleeping wolf. "Try to at least not shed too much for the next few days, would you?"

One of Timber's legs twitched, causing a couple of hair to float away from it.

* * *

Thompson, Holmes, Clearwater and Hart met that night on the grounds, determined to comb the area and make absolutely sure Snake Eyes had not transformed again. The ninja had been in a terrible mood all day and the word about what had happened to him had gotten around the base, so they knew the holy water had reached its intended target. Their mood was therefore pretty close to giddy, and they were even confident that once he realized he had been rid of the curse, Snake Eyes' mood would change completely. Holmes intended to go see him when that happened, relate how he had been saved and request that he go public and thus allow her to apply her talents to help others as well… she wasn't quite sure how she'd phrase that yet to sound neither selfish not corny, but she had already decided she'd settle for corny if she couldn't avoid it.

All four were grinning when they separated to each go look their own way, fully expecting they would all come back with no wolf to report.

Three of them were still smiling widely when they regrouped two hours later. Holmes, Thompson and Hart lost their smile instantly upon seeing Clearwater leaning against the wall, looking around rather nervously. Thompson sped up his steps.

"What did you see?" he asked when he got close enough to be heard without shouting.

"It's still here," she muttered a bit shakily. "I saw it. It looks so… real! I think I was downwind, he didn't seem to notice me, but… what if he did? Is he going to come after me?"

"No," Thompson replied automatically. "You need to remember, this is Snake Eyes. He's not bad, he's just cursed. He's not going to harm us, unless we do something that drives him crazy."

"Like dowsing him in water while he's sleeping?" Hart asked.

Clearwater's eyes widened. Thompson glared at Hart.

"There's no way just getting wet drove Snake Eyes crazy," he said. "He's been through WAY worse. Come on, we need to figure out what to do next."

The four skulked back towards the security door, considerably less cheerful than they had been when they had stepped outside. As they got closer, Hart's eyes were drawn to a small white object leaning against the grey wall next to the door. The others saw it too as they got closer – an envelope.

"The Victim was here," Holmes said as she picked up the envelope, addressed once again to Holmes and the Watsons. "We'll read it inside."

"You'd think he would have told us the werewolf was still here instead of letting me get scared half to death," Clearwater grumbled.

"Feeling better now?" Hart asked. "You know, I think I saw on the internet that you can start sprouting whiskers if you see a werewolf."

Clearwater's eyes widened briefly, but then narrowed in annoyance as she smacked Hart in the back of the head. Hart just chuckled, so she smacked him again, harder. He stopped laughing and stepped sideways to get out of her reach.

The other three followed Holmes to an empty rec room and gathered around her as she opened the envelope.

_Dear friends,_

_I was just out to check and see for myself that the grounds were no longer host to a certain four-legged creature and saw one of you run back, obviously frightened. It's all too clear the cure did not work… I am sorry._

_Again for the sake of not wasting time, I will assume that you will not give up after this one failed attempt. Historically, where spiritual purity has failed, natural purity has been attempted with some success. Therefore, I would suggest your next choice of cure should be to cover the patient with the purest substance our Mother Earth can offer: honey._

_Naturally, the purity of the honey will be more likely to be passed on to the patient the longer it stays on his skin. I can offer no suggestion on how to apply this cure and am therefore limited to wishing you the best of luck._

Holmes' eyes were wide when she stopped reading and looked up at the others. Unsurprisingly, they looked just as stunned as she was; how in the world were they going to cover Snake Eyes in honey?

* * *

Author's Notes:

Congratulations to everyone who guessed the reference in the last chapter was to Ghost Soldier by WillWrite4Fics!

Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes having private quarters was partly influenced by CrystalofEllinon's excellent stories, where both lack roommates for the same reasons I imagine they do.

Got nothing else to say, except the insanity is coming to an end… one, maybe two chapters left if the next one grows out of control.


	5. Chapter 5: A Honey of a Ninja

**Chapter 5: A Honey of a Ninja**

Nancy Clearwater crashed into her chair at dinner two days later and slouched on the table.

"Done," she groaned weakly. "I'm going to need a sick day tomorrow, now, and I won't even need to fake again: I'm wiped. This had better work, I can't take this anymore. The ceiling was bad enough, but this… and I can't even brag about it to anyone! Urgh… I was afraid someone was going to walk in on me the whole time."

"Would it have mattered?" Hart asked in a whisper. "You were just in the storage room on the other side of the wall, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but I had no business being there, either, especially not making holes in the wall. Plus, I had to go in his actual quarters to test it. And then I had to clean it…"

"You tested it?" Thompson whispered, grinning. "Awesome. I hope it works too," he added. "Stealing all that honey wasn't precisely easy either."

"I'd love to join in on the whining," Holmes said, whispering like the others, "but my part was child's play – to me, anyway. Just the same, it would be nice to stop failing."

Clearwater threw her such a dirty look that Hart moved his chair away from Holmes' a bit.

"I'm sure it'll work," he said in an attempt to clear the air. "You've all done really well."

"Hopefully he doesn't change his normal routine and throw off our scheduling," Holmes said, wisely switching subject.

"It would be the first time in years," Thompson replied automatically. "I wouldn't worry."

* * *

"All right, you bunch of slow pokes!" Beach Head bellowed, "Go on and get out of here, don't you have things to do?"

The dismissal from morning PT elicited the usual groans of relief from most of the Joes. The two usual exceptions merely strolled back towards the Pit, but where both ninjas usually exuded an air of cool relaxation, as though PT had been but a pleasant walk in the park, Storm Shadow looked almost tense that morning.

"You're making Beach Head think he got to you, look: he's smiling," Scarlett remarked.

"He's giving credit to the wrong slobbering beast," Storm Shadow replied.

Scarlett bit her lips, torn between chuckling and being insulted on behalf of Timber and Beach Head. Snake Eyes automatically started signing an offer to move Timber back to his quarters, but Storm Shadow waved it off.

"You got the wrong one too," he said. "I meant Psyche-Out."

Snake Eyes laughed silently and asked whether, seriously, Timber had been any trouble.

Storm Shadow looked at him with an air of disbelief.

"You have GOT to be kidding," he said. "You know what greeted me the first morning when I came back from PT? He was lying on the bed, the remains of my pillow strewn across the whole room – mixed in with what looked like two wolf's worth of hair – and he was wagging his tail, proud as can be to have dispatched my evil pillow for me."

Scarlett chuckled. Snake Eyes started signing an apology but Storm Shadow ignored him and just kept talking.

"So I cleaned all of it up, gave him his snack and some water – I AM glad it turns out he'll eat dog food, by the way, Flint was really starting to make me nervous – I put him back to sleep and went on my merry way. You were with me when I went back for lunch."

Snake Eyes nodded uncomfortably: Storm Shadow hadn't realized he needed to put some newspaper down and so, Timber had just gone on the closest looking thing: the white rug at the foot of the bed.

"I do appreciate your replacing the rug so quickly," Tommy said, noting his discomfort. "But anyway, lesson learned in both cases: my new pillow spends the day in the bathroom behind a closed door and I have newspaper down. How you paper trained a wolf is beyond me, but you most certainly did; there have been no accidents since. So! Things were going so well that I figured every problem had its solution and I spent an hour brushing him yesterday."

Snake Eyes signed to remark that was very nice of him and that Timber loved being brushed.

Storm Shadow rolled his eyes.

"I was trying to get all the loose hair out so he wouldn't shed so much," he specified, "not to give him a nice relaxing spa treatment."

Scarlett snorted. "Been there, done that. It doesn't work," she said.

They were at the door to Tommy's quarters by then. Tommy opened it before he answered, letting both of them in the usually spotless but currently hair-covered room. Timber was snoozing away on Tommy's bed.

"I noticed," he said dryly in answer to Scarlett's comment. "The sad part is that I cleaned all this last night," he added, looking around the room.

Snake Eyes remarked that Timber had obviously grown to like him, adding he wouldn't sleep in his bed otherwise.

"I know," Storm Shadow replied. "He affectionately woke me up this morning by licking the inside of my ear."

The only reason Scarlett managed to keep herself from laughing out loud was that Snake Eyes looked miserable, apologizing and offering to move Timber back again.

"Nah," Storm Shadow said, waving the offer off with a smile. "Don't mind me, I'm just venting. None of that is actually a big deal. Besides, didn't Security tell you they would start the investigation soon? It wouldn't make sense to risk moving Timber back to your quarters again. I'm a ninja; I can handle a bit of saliva and a luscious coating of hair on everything. Now, if you two would excuse me, I need to start cleaning up again. I don't have extra vacuums to give you, so there's not much you can do to help."

Snake Eyes signed a thank you and shooed a groggy Timber off Tommy's bed and back into his own before giving him a pat and pinching his sleeping point again. He then left with Scarlett, each of them heading back to their quarters for a much needed shower before facing the rest of the day.

* * *

Snake Eyes frowned under his visor most of the way back to his quarters: something was off. It dawned on him about halfway to his destination that he hadn't heard a single shower running yet. They had lagged a bit by going to Tommy's quarters, and it was in fact possible that most people were done with their showers, but it certainly seemed odd that every single Joe on this stretch of corridor hadalready finished; more likely, the water was off.

In itself, that would only have been a minor inconvenience. However, the Pit's systems hardly ever failed. In all his years here, he remembered the water being out exactly once, and that had been when the water main had broken in the middle of a particularly cold winter. In the summer, like now, he couldn't imagine what could get the water to shut off completely, unless sabotage was involved.

He had resolved to go straight to the Command Centre and find out what was going on and he walked right past his door, only to stop in his track when he heard the sound of a shower.

He sighed and turned back, rolling his eyes at himself. Between Timber getting captured and the trapped ceiling above his bed, not to mention Tommy harping on him lately about listening to his instincts, he was starting to go a bit paranoid.

He went into his quarters, listening out, and relaxed as he continued to hear the sound of water rushing, loud enough for him to guess a shower was being used just a few doors down. There was no system failure, no sabotage, no impending doom – just a coincidence that had caused the occupants of the few rooms between Tommy's and his to not be in the middle of washing up.

He took off his clothes and stepped into his own shower, smiling at the multi-jets. Tommy smirked indulgently about the luxury every occasion he had, but Snake Eyes felt the light teasing was worth enduring: the hot water multi-massage was plain nice, and if Tommy ever stopped being a luxury snob long enough to try one, Snake Eyes was confident his brother would end up with an even higher-end multi-jets shower in his quarters within a week following.

He checked the temperature setting and turned the shower on, eyes closed, expecting and looking forward to the cold water spraying him briefly before warming up to just below scalding: the contrast never failed to invigorate him body and mind.

No cold water came out of the jets this morning. Instead, Snake Eyes was whipped by something thicker than water, something that was already just below scalding, and sticky. He jumped out of the shower, wishing for the second time in just a few days that he could curse and scream, and looked down at himself.

There was no mistaking the smell, the texture and the golden hue: he was covered in honey. He turned the shower off just as the flow was dying off and felt a drop ooze towards his eyes. He wiped irritably at it and at his forehead, but thanks to his high pressure multi-jets shower, his arm – and for that matter the rest of him - was just as full of honey as his head and the gesture only pushed the gooey, sticky substance up a little bit. The fact that the honey was cooling down to room temperature, however, did help congeal it a bit and at the very least, it quickly stopped dripping towards his eyes, stickiness winning over gravity.

He angrily turned the faucets to the sink and glared at them, seized with the irrational desire to rip them off the counter: nothing was coming out of them. He listened out and found he could still hear the sound of the 'shower' going a few doors down, which he could now guess was a recording probably playing from just outside his quarters with the volume down to fool him into thinking it was coming from a bit further.

He caught a glance of his honey spattered arms again and snarled. He had no idea why the greenshirts would think honey, of all things, could possibly cure a werewolf but the level of organization was pretty much their calling card by now: it was almost certainly them.

He wrapped a towel around his midsection but didn't even attempt to put on his mask, figuring the honey would make it stick worse than a wet bathing suit and that he'd never get the thing on properly or without getting honey in his eyes.

He walked out of the bathroom, leaving sticky footprints as he went, and headed for the phone. With any luck, the water was only down in this section of the base.

He picked up the phone, put it to his ear and started dialling Scarlett's number, his fingers moving so fast that he had already composed her extension by the time he noticed there was no tone in the phone. He took a deep breath, told himself that breaking his phone would not accomplish anything, and put the receiver down in an almost calm fashion.

The stickiness was disgusting, uncomfortable, humiliating and altogether pretty much intolerable, and he would have given just about anything right now for a functioning shower. If the greenshirts, for whatever insane reason, had determined he should not be able to wash himself off from his sink or even call on someone to bring him some water, chances were pretty good they would also keep the water off for a while. He had no intention of humouring them for however long that was, so the only question remaining was where to go.

Being seen was absolutely out of the question, especially wearing nothing but a towel; he therefore wanted to cover as little distance as possible outside of the ceiling. That meant going back to Tommy's quarters, which were a good bit closer to a vent than Shana's and also had the advantage of being closer anyway, meaning a shorter crawl through the air ducts.

He stood by his door, listening for any footsteps or voices. He peeked through his peep-hole, confirming at least nobody was standing right in front of his door, and finally risked opening the door just enough to take a look in the hall. He sighed in relief: there was nobody there.

He silently slid out and, with the ease of experience, jumped to the air vent located a mere step away from his door, pushed the loose grid up and hoisted himself into the air duct. He quietly put the grid back in place and started crawling, clenching his teeth as he acquired a light coating of dust on his hands, knees and lower legs. He also quickly realized he was leaving a trail of honey and snarled: he'd have to come back and deal with it once he was clean himself. At least, by coming this way, he'd only be out in the open again for the time it took him to drop back in the hall next to Tommy's door and duck inside his brother's quarters. It was just a shame the main ducts did not go into the quarters themselves, branching out into much smaller pipes instead.

He looked out and listened out through the grid closest to Tommy's quarters to make sure the corridor was empty and dropped out, landing light as a feather – if a sticky one – and covering the ten steps to Storm Shadow's quarters in a heartbeat. He knew he didn't need to knock - Tommy would have heard him approach and by now, he would be able to tell he was in a hurry from his pulse and breathing. Therefore, rather than risk drawing the attention of anybody else around, he just waited, ready to rush inside the door the second it opened and to face his brother's laughing heartily at him. Assuming, of course, that said brother didn't just stare at his face in mute horror – Tommy had no more seen him without his mask since the accident than any of the other Joes. If anything, Snake Eyes was almost glad to be forced into getting the 'reveal' done and over with.

He heard muffled voices from inside and the door opened to Psyche Out.

* * *

Psyche Out had started his career with a specialization in psychological warfare. When he had joined GI Joe, he had quickly been given the additional duty of team psychiatrist and psychologist and as such, he was proud to say he had seen it all and heard it all. It was obvious to any new personnel that the Joes were a quirky bunch, but to the man in charge of keeping them all somewhat sane, the fact you could still qualify them of merely quirky most of the time was a personal triumph in which he took a good deal of pride.

All in all, Psyche Out considered himself a very solid person. His very presence in Storm Shadow's quarters this morning, for the ninja's weekly visit, was probably a decent proof of that by itself: Storm Shadow, like most people on the team, hated to think he was anything less than in perfect mental health and therefore, had to be ordered to see him and deeply resented it. Psyche Out had been told that the ex Cobra was actually quite sociable with most people on the team – even when he was in the process of pounding them into the floor in hand-to-hand classes - but he had never seen that side of the ninja himself.

However, neither his years in GI Joe, nor his frequent one-on-one encounters with an irritable ninja who wanted nothing more than to be rid of him, nor his own impression that he was as stable as a particularly large rock made any difference when he opened the door to a half-naked, honey-coated, dusty, angry looking, buff, horribly disfigured and currently mask-less Snake Eyes. Psyche Out's brains did not even register who he was looking at until after he shrieked.

He heard himself scream, and although he knew almost right away that screaming was the worst thing he could possibly have done, the command to stop seemed to take a long time to reach his mouth, lungs and vocal cords. By the time it finally did, several things were happening: most of the nearby doors were opening to other Joes trying to find out what was going on, he was being shoved out of Storm Shadow's quarters and Snake Eyes was brushing against him – leaving some honey on his clothes - to get inside faster.

He fell to his hands and knees from the shove just as the door closed. The Joes that had come out of their rooms were all staring at him and at the floor, where sticky footsteps could be seen. One of them eventually thought of asking whether he was okay, but he was drown out by the various enquiries on whether that had been Snake Eyes and why he had been naked and covered in honey. The inquiries quickly degenerated into speculations involving Scarlett and Psyche Out decided he didn't want to hear anymore. He picked himself up and hurried back to his office to try and think of a way to convince Snake Eyes not to kill or maim him.

* * *

Snake Eyes stood, shaking in anger, in the middle of the room.

"They didn't see your face," Storm Shadow reported, listening out to the voices in the hall. "They're only guessing it was you."

Snake Eyes signed in quick jerky movements, asking what Psyche Out had been doing here.

"I have my weekly appointments in my quarters," Storm Shadow explained, looking like he was fighting very hard for each second he managed to stay serious. "There's too much circulation outside his office, I always felt like people could hear everything we said. I told you this morning I was seeing him today, didn't I? As for why he answered the door, he insisted because he was hoping to shoo you away."

Storm Shadow was very clearly losing his battle not to laugh: by the time he finished his explanation, he was reduced to hiding his grin behind his mouth.

Snake Eyes scowled at him, refrained from arguing whether Tommy's earlier comment indeed qualified as telling him Psyche Out was coming today and, looking around, asked where Timber was.

"Asleep in the closet," Storm Shadow said, his voice slightly altered to a higher pitch than usual and getting further from his normal tone with each word. "He must still be out cold from your pinch, otherwise Psyche Out's girly scream would probably have woken him up."

Snake Eyes sighed, rolled his eyes and instructed his brother to just laugh it up and get it over with. Tommy heartily complied, but trying to keep the volume down soon caused him to roll over on the bed, holding his sides in pain until he managed to calm down.

"I'm sorry. It's just… what HAPPENED to you? Did you find a big vat of honey and swan dived into it?"

Snake Eyes signed the whole story, including the recording of a shower designed to fool him and the phone not working, and asked whether Tommy's water was shut off as well. Tommy missed the question, rolling on his bed again, a fist in his mouth and tears streaming from his eyes.

Snake Eyes crossed his arms and tapped his foot, glaring at his brother. He had expected Tommy to find this hilarious, but his patience was wearing thin. Tommy heard the taps and managed to stop laughing and to look him straight in the eyes, still grinning but at least no longer shaking with laughter.

"Stop glaring at me like that, you look enough like my father as it is," he chuckled.

Snake Eyes blinked at him; Tommy's father had been Japanese, there was no way he had looked like a blue-eyed blond Caucasian.

"Your scars," Tommy explained, his smile softening into what looked suspiciously like nostalgia. "He got a sword slash across his face when I was a baby, and the scar shrunk the skin around his eye."

Snake Eyes' hand self consciously went to his own left eye, with the peeled back lids that made his face look lopsided by making the eye look huge.

"Up to that point, he had considered himself to be very handsome," Storm Shadow continued. "After that injury, he decided to go to the other extreme for his face to continue to be a distraction to his opponents, and purposely scarred himself on every available inch, using a combination of burns and cuts."

Snake Eyes just stared at him wide eyed for a second. He turned his finger around his temple in a universal gesture and Tommy chuckled.

"Yeah, but it actually worked quite well."

Snake Eyes chuckled too. Crazy dad or not, Tommy had just treated him to a better reaction to his face than he had ever hoped for. For a blissful moment, he forgot he was covered in honey.

"Back on topic," Tommy said. "I don't understand. How did you manage to get that much clean?" he asked, pointing at the other man's towel.

Snake Eyes signed that he hadn't.

Storm Shadow's eyebrows shot up and a smirk appeared on his lips.

"You've never heard of using honey for hair removal, have you?"

Snake Eyes' eyes widened before he closed them in a sigh: he really could have done without this additional problem. He signed to ask again whether Tommy had working water.

Tommy shook his head sympathetically. "Psyche Out was telling me it was out in the whole base except for the infirmary."

Snake Eyes sighed and went for the phone. He picked it up and dialled Shana's extension again. Tommy's phone had not been disconnected, so it did ring, but there was no answer. Snake Eyes hung up, reflecting that it wasn't surprising: Scarlett wasn't one to just hang around in her room unless she had a good reason to be there.

"I'll go get some water bottles," Storm Shadow offered. "You're going to have to wait until my shower works again before you can soak the towel through enough with warm water to remove it without peeling your hair off, but at least you can scrub the rest of yourself clean with bottled water and some soap. I'll go get your uniform, too. Other than the hand-to-hand class, were you due anywhere this morning?"

Snake Eyes shook his head and signed a thank you, resigned to the less than ideal partial sponge bath as at least a step in the right direction.

Storm Shadow signalled him to get out of sight before he got out, and as soon as the door opened, Snake Eyes heard several voices asking Tommy what was going on and demanding to know whether that naked guy covered in honey had actually been Snake Eyes. The towel-clad ninja braced himself, fully expecting Tommy would find the worst possible answer to give.

"He's not naked, don't be silly," Tommy said, his voice growing softer as he walked away. "He's wearing a regulation towel."

Snake Eyes rolled his eyes resignedly and decided to check on Timber, ignoring the uncomfortable silence from the hallway, which he could guess was the result of the Joes present knowing better than to actually laugh when he could hear them.

He opened the door to the closet and Timber, probably because he picked up his scent under the honey, groggily opened his eyes. He wagged his tail and gave a lick, painfully pulling at the skin stuck to the honey. Snake Eyes stepped back, but Timber licked his chops and got up to follow him, eager to show him some more affection while he tasted so much nicer than usual.

The thought of pinching Timber's sleeping point was squashed before it was even fully formed: if he did that, Snake Eyes' fingers would get stuck on the hair and he'd pull out a good bit of it getting his digits back. He wasn't going to prevent his wolf from _kissing_ him by painfully pulling the poor thing's hair out.

He tried to signal his friend to stop, but Timber just cocked his head, having obviously no idea what it was he wasn't supposed to be doing since licks had never before been forbidden. Snake Eyes tried locking himself in the bathroom, but he had to give that up when Timber started scratching at the door and whimpering: the CD wasn't even on and the scratching noise and whimpers would probably not pass as being part of it anyway. He came out of the bathroom and settled into basically playing one-sided tag with the wolf while trying to make as little mess as possible.

* * *

Storm Shadow was torn between annoyance and amusement when he came back. On one hand, Snake Eyes and Timber had made a complete mess of his room by running around, Snake Eyes spreading enough honey for the hair Timber was spreading to stick to everything in clumps. On the other hand, well… Snake Eyes WAS running around the room from Timber who was attempting to lick the honey off him.

Annoyance won out strictly because of the trouble he'd had securing the pack of water bottles he was bringing back: he'd had to make a detour to avoid Psyche Out, only for Flint to show up just as he was getting the bottles. The Warrant Officer had practically interrogated him about the water, going as far as implying he was planning to use it to drench someone in their sleep. He'd had to give his word upon his honour that the water was not for a prank and to admit it was for Snake Eyes to give himself a sponge bath before Flint had finally relented and let him go on his way.

He closed the door quickly before someone could see either the mess, the candied ninja or the wolf, and then pinched Timber's sleeping point as the animal was zipping by, running playfully after his pack leader. Timber slumped to the ground and Snake Eyes stopped running, signing a thank you.

"You do realize YOU'RE cleaning this up, right?" Tommy asked, eyeing the room.

Snake Eyes nodded eagerly and pointed at the water bottles.

"You're lucky, they weren't in the fridge, so they're not even cold. They should be more than enough if you empty some of them in the sink and reuse the water until you're ready to rinse. I'm sorry, I didn't feel it was wise to…" he trailed off, listening out. "Heh," he chuckled after a moment. "I was about to explain you were going to have to scrub yourself clean all by yourself because I didn't think I should bring Scarlett, what with everyone in the hall knowing you're mostly naked and covered with honey, but she must have heard of your predicament: she's on her way. I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose: you ARE the talk of the morning."

Snake Eyes sighed and sagged, rolling his eyes and his head back. He couldn't even pretend he was going to kill the greenshirts, he knew he wouldn't. For crying out loud, the idiots were trying to SAVE him, although they HAD chosen to do it by coating him with honey… maybe he could beat them up just a little bit, or at least spend the next couple of months regularly scaring the living daylights out of them.

"I was laughing too hard to ask earlier, but didn't you smell the honey in the pipes?" Storm Shadow asked, interrupting some very pleasant thoughts where greenshirts kept yelping and literally jumping, hand on their hearts, following Snake Eyes suddenly appearing in front of them. "I know you did have the sense to wonder about the lack of other showers running until you heard a recording of one, but it IS the second time a bunch of delusional greenshirts succeed in pouring something all over you. Didn't you feel anything was out of place?"

Snake Eyes scowled at him and signed that he did NOT want to be lectured on listening to his instincts right now.

Storm Shadow sighed and signalled him to hide again before opening the door to Scarlett, who quickly ducked inside without even slowing down from the rapid walk that had brought her here.

Snake Eyes re-emerged from behind the bed, facing Scarlett, who grinned and looked him up and down very slowly, obviously appreciating the view.

"Oh, honey, what a mess you are," she said.

"He's messy, but he's still sweet," Storm Shadow commented.

Both Snake Eyes and Scarlett glared at him, both obviously feeling this particular line of puns was only acceptable coming from Scarlett. Storm Shadow snorted but put his hand on the door handle again.

"Oh fine, be that way," he said with a mock pout. "I'll just leave you two alone to scrub and go get you a uniform, Brother."

He waited for them both to disappear into the bathroom and left again, ignoring all the questions directed his way by the Joes that suddenly materialized out of their own rooms.

Even with Scarlett's help, the clean-up was not a fun process: the honey was not coming off all that easily, and it was of course coming off on the washcloths Snake Eyes and Scarlett were using. To avoid saturating the limited supply of washing water with honey, they ended up switching to a fresh washcloth several times and to hand towels when they ran out of washcloths.

They were not even half done by the time Storm Shadow came back with Snake Eyes' uniform. Tommy somehow managed not to crack up again at the sight of all the honey covered washcloths and small towels and started practicing his katas, keeping an ear out for trouble or signs that Timber was waking up.

Despite the hassle, Snake Eyes did not regret his decision not to wait for the water to come back on: it was another hour after he and Scarlett finished washing up as much of the honey as they could before it finally did. Both Scarlett and Storm Shadow had left by then to go teach the beginner's hand-to-hand class without him, which was probably the only silver lining in this whole business. He turned on the shower the second he heard the water rushing back in the pipes and only took long enough to make sure that the liquid coming out of the shower head was indeed water before jumping in.

* * *

Author's Notes

One chapter left since this one did grow out of control a bit. The next one is just everything wrapping up… somehow.

Just in case you're wondering, I swear I did not write this story JUST for the sake of getting a naked ninja coated in honey. If I had, I would have gone for Storm Shadow. Can someone else do that for me, please? I'd love to read it. Consider yourselves challenged. :P

The initial challenge was born from my telling WillWrite4Fics that I was coming up with pranks of sorts – really attempted cures - targeting Snake Eyes for an upcoming story, and one of the things I was considering was coating him in honey. The rest is history.


	6. Chapter 6: Every Bubble's Got to Pop

**Chapter 6: Every Bubble's Got to Pop**

"I'm not going off by myself again," Clearwater mumbled as she made her way to the Security door with Holmes, Thompson and Hart that night.

The four were on their way outside, to once again inspect the grounds in the hope of finding them werewolf-free.

"Me neither," Hart said in a whisper. "At this point, I'm not sure running into his human form would be any safer."

Thompson clicked his tongue irritably.

"Now, stop that, Hart," Holmes said in a mock lecturing tone. "You're upsetting his number one fan by implying such things."

Thompson glared at her.

"He's a subject of research," he said, "not my idol. The fact is, he just happens to be... well, himself. He's too good to hurt team mates and if he wanted to, you wouldn't even see him coming."

Holmes snickered. "Right," she said, "not a fan at all; just fully aware that he's utterly fantastic because you spent most of your life obsessing over him and studying him."

Thompson's upper lip curled in a snarl even as he felt the blood rush to his head. He turned to Holmes but Hart spoke before he could actually think of a come back to her remark.

"Letter," the sniper said, pointing at a bit of envelope just peaking out from behind a laminated floor plan displayed on the wall near the door.

Thompson rushed past him to grab it and opened it, heart beating madly in anticipation. His face fell when a small bag of needles fell out of the folded letter. Now able to guess at the content of the letter, he read it quickly in a low mutter.

_Dear friends,_

_I am so sorry. It appears he was able to clean off the honey too quickly for the cure to take effect. I hope you find this letter before you go outside tonight and save yourself another fright._

_Please, I beg of you, do not give up. I can imagine how frustrating this new failure must be, especially considering all your hard work, but I for one cannot stand the thought of it all being for nothing and that we would simply stop trying and leave him to his cruel fate, not to mention let the base continue to face this danger without even knowing it's there._

_I'm afraid, however, that the other cures I know are not quite as gentle as the first two you were kind enough to attempt. I've enclosed silver needles with this letter – a single prick will suffice, but the silver must touch the living blood. One of us needs to get close enough to prick him fairly deeply, and as I've explained before, I lack the skills necessary for any task of the sort. I must again rely on you._

_I wish it hadn't come to this; I know how difficult this will be. I rely on your courage and your skills, and pray that they will not fail you and that we may finally put this all behind us._

"What the heck does he DO here, if he can't do anything for himself?" Clearwater asked grumpily.

Holmes was frowning, thinking hard. She liked those cures less and less: it was too convenient how they got progressively worse for Snake Eyes. It was enough to make one question one's conclusions. Not that she would admit it, but she could still probe indirectly to see what her companions thought.

"Just so we're clear," she whispered as they were heading back to the quarters area, "are you all still in on this? None of you are tempted to suddenly come up with another explanation for the apparent wolf that lurks in the grounds at night, are you?"

"Nobody had better: being tired is no excuse for sticking your head back in the sand," Thompson said. "There IS no other explanation. The bandage even came off both forms at the same time."

"We think," Hart corrected. "It's hard to be certain since we didn't see the wolf every night and since Snake Eyes' bandage is or was under his uniform."

"You could see it make a slight bump when he still had it," Holmes said, shaking her head, "and I checked on the wolf myself the night of the day I first noticed that bump was gone: he didn't have it anymore either. Well, it does you all credit that you're not rattled enough to lose your heads. I feared the cures getting progressively more painful would concern some of you or more likely, be seized as an excuse to stall or give up."

"Well of course they're getting more painful!" Thompson said in an exasperated voice. "The victim was trying the gentlest cures first! Why are we even discussing this? There's a wolf at night that's not there during the day, there's no way it's coming from outside the grounds, and if it were inside, Storm Shadow would know about it, not to mention the dogs. If Storm Shadow knew someone was hiding a wolf, he would tell because of his oath, UNLESS he had another oath preventing him from doing so, such as protecting the life of a member of his clan. Snake Eyes wouldn't be in danger from being caught harbouring a wolf, but it's easy to imagine Storm Shadow worrying of what would become of his brother if he was known to be a werewolf."

"True," Hart agreed.

Holmes gave both of them a thumbs-up, reassured as to her own conclusions and determined to make it look like she hadn't had any doubts herself.

"So, how are we going to do it?" Clearwater asked. "I swear I'm not trying to bail out here, but I can't think of a way to make a trap with needles that wouldn't be kind of dangerous."

"No," Thompson agreed. "This one will require direct human intervention."

"Are you in that training exercise tomorrow?" Holmes asked him.

Thompson glowered. "No," he said. "I'm too new!" he added in a sing-song voice, presumably imitating whoever had explained to him why he hadn't been selected for the break-in exercise Snake Eyes was doing with some of the commando greenshirts in the morning.

"Too bad," Clearwater sighed. "That would have been a really good occasion."

"I'm on the team defending the base," Hart offered.

Thompson looked at him, torn between being viciously jealous and being happy to have at least one of them in on the exercise.

"Perfect," Holmes said. "You can… well, not tackle him, obviously." She scratched her head.

"I'll shoot him with the needles," Hart said, thinking out loud. "I have a blow pipe they'll fit once I attach them to some heads. It won't do much damage at all, especially if I aim somewhere non vital."

"Just don't get caught," Thompson warned.

"To be honest, I think we should go to the officers if it doesn't work this time," Clearwater said, cutting off Hart's answer.

"They won't believe it, remember?" Hart said. "Don't worry, I won't get caught."

"Actually, they might be more open to the possibility now," Holmes said. "Those letters clearly establish at least one other person shares our certainty that Snake Eyes is a werewolf, and more importantly, they are proof that at least one person was attacked by a werewolf on base."

"If he's found out before he's cured, the brass will have his head," Thompson said.

"General Hawk wouldn't do that," Clearwater objected.

"We do need to be realistic," Holmes said with a sigh. "It is possible that we can't cure him, either because The Victim's cures don't work or because we're just not capable of pulling them off properly."

She stopped there, letting someone else speak out the final decision she wanted: curing Snake Eyes would be more impressive than turning him in, but if the cures were going to become more dangerous, it was time to give up on the best case scenario and to settle for the one that still got her closer to a position in intelligence.

"I agree," Clearwater said.

"Nancy!" Thompson protested.

"Dave, come on. If we can't help him by ourselves, it makes no sense not to ask for help," Clearwater said.

"Yes, 'Dave'," Holmes said with a smirk, "it'd be selfish to chase the glory of the rescue at the cost of the rescue itself."

"Are we SURE Hawk will try to help, as opposed to, I don't know, throwing him in jail or something?" Hart asked.

Thompson snorted.

"Like THAT would do anything," he chuckled.

"I can't imagine Hawk not standing by one of his best men," Holmes said.

"Okay, look," Thompson said. "I agree: if we can convince Hawk, we can PROBABLY trust him not to do anything that would harm Snake Eyes. But we don't know for sure, now do we? There's no sense taking the chance unless we have to."

"I say if this doesn't work, we have to," Hart said.

"I agree," Clearwater said, avoiding Thompson's glare.

Holmes nodded.

Thompson sighed. "Fine," he said. "If this one doesn't work, we go to Hawk."

"Hart, do you need help making the needles fit your blow pipe?" Clearwater asked, eager to change the subject.

"Nah," Hart said. "You take a break for once."

* * *

The following morning, still sour over not being in the actual exercise, Thompson went over with most of the other Joes and greenshirts to watch the proceedings. He snapped to attention when he heard his name being bellowed from somewhere behind him, fighting back a wave of paranoid panic that the Sergeant Major had found out he'd had something to do with the empty cage and cameras in the PT field a few days back. He turned around.

"Yes, Sergeant Major?"

"Quit standing there and go join your team!" Beach Head bellowed from about 20 feet away, not bothering to come closer to him.

Thompson resisted rolling his eyes, feeling this was a textbook example of adding insult to injury.

"I'm not on any team, Sergeant Major," he called back.

"What do I look like, stupid?" Beach Head yelled. "You've been added to Snake Eyes' team at the last minute! MOVE!"

Thompson grinned, shouted a cheerful "Yes Sergeant Major!" and took off to join the black ninja's team. He tried to spot Hart, intent on getting some needles from him and attempt to prick Snake Eyes, but the sniper was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged it off, thinking they might spot each other during the exercise and that even if they didn't, he was still IN the exercise. He had no idea what had made the Sergeant Major change his mind at the last minute and right at that moment, he was too happy to care much.

* * *

From most people's point of view, the exercise was a complete success: about half of Snake Eyes' troops were 'taken out' – with paint guns - by the defence team before they reached the goal. The other half, Snake Eyes included, had made it to the flag-goal but only Snake Eyes himself had managed to get back out again with his uniform – and the flag - free of any colourful markings.

Hart, from his position on the roof, could not tell what was happening inside the base past knowing how many of Snake Eyes' team got in and how many came back out 'dead', but from those two indicators, it seemed to him both teams were doing pretty well. He would have been happy with his own performance, seeing he had taken out a few of the invaders himself, except he hadn't had a chance to take a single shot at Snake Eyes. He had seen him zip by a few times, but the ninja was always too fast to hit with a paint ball, and definitely too fast for Hart to ready his blow pipe and hit him with a silver needle.

On top of that, Thompson had turned up on the ninja's team after all, but Hart hadn't been able to flag him to his position to give him some of the needles. He was fully expecting the commando to blame him personally for his not being able to even try and prick the werewolf ninja, especially since he seemed to have managed to survive for a respectable amount of time, judging by the time he came back out of the base as dead.

In short, Hard was furious with himself because he'd only had one important target, and he hadn't even come near to successfully hitting it. He had to get Snake Eyes now, before everyone dispersed; he absolutely didn't want to miss his chance to try and cure the werewolf, especially considering he had basically just sat out the previous two attempts. On top of that, he knew himself well enough to guess that if he messed up, he'd spend the rest of his life wondering what he'd done wrong and it was anyone's guess what new compulsive behaviour his brains would come up with in an effort to avoid this kind of failure ever reoccurring.

The other snipers were emerging from their positions now that the exercise was over, but instead of following them, Hart crept along the roof until he had a good angle and positioned his blow pipe.

Snake Eyes had his back to him and seemed to be signing something to Beach Head, although Hard could not make out the signs from where he was. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, aiming for ninja's backside mostly to reduce the chances of actual injuries and so increase his chances of survival, and blew.

* * *

Snake Eyes would have been hard pressed to define exactly why he needed to turn around and shield himself; it may have been the sound of an object whistling through the air, it may have been a reflection in Beach Head's eyes… ultimately, it was just intuition.

He was crouching in an instant and, catching the movement of the shiny projectile, was able to position his sword just in time: the needle pinged harmlessly on his blade and bounced back a little, falling to the ground. Snake Eyes smirked to himself: regardless of what Tommy may think, he could rely on his instincts just fine when he needed to.

"What was that?" Beach Head shouted, running to the needle. "Who's the idiot shooting after the exercise is done? And with a NEEDLE? Wait a minute… Snake Eyes, would that have hit if you hadn't blocked it?"

Snake Eyes nodded, looking towards the roof.

"And guess what? The one greenie that I know can use a blow pipe well was on the roof today," Beach Head growled. "HART!" he bellowed, taking off at a run towards the ladder leading to the roof.

Beach Head had left the needle behind, so Snake Eyes picked it up and glared at it: it was silver. He turned towards Storm Shadow, who mock-clapped from where he was, several strides away, to congratulate him on the block. Snake Eyes signalled him over.

"Silver?" Tommy asked when he was close enough to be heard speaking in a whisper.

Snake Eyes nodded and signed the word for "Heart".

"That was nowhere NEAR your… oh, you mean Hart, don't you?" He hesitated a moment and finally sighed. "Yes, alright, he's one of them. You DO remember that we don't want them to panic, right?"

Snake Eyes nodded and made a conscious effort not to take off after Beach Head in search of the greenshirt.

"You must be glad you listened to your instincts THIS time," Storm Shadow commented, eyeing the needle. "Granted, this wouldn't have been dangerous as such, especially not considering where he aimed it, but it still wouldn't have felt particularly nice."

Snake Eyes didn't get a chance to respond: Beach Head had obviously found Hart and was shouting at him at the top of his lungs. Storm Shadow cocked his head, listening intently in an effort to make out Hart's answers through Beach's questions.

"Good news is, he hasn't cracked yet," he commented as Beach reached the ground again, dragging Hart by his ear. "Bad news is, it's because he hasn't been able to get a word in."

Sure enough, Beach didn't stop yelling until he had dragged Hart near Snake Eyes, Storm Shadow and the other Joes that were gathering around to witness the excitement.

"GO AHEAD AND TELL THE NINJA WHY YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF, MAGGOT!" he finally shouted at top volume into the sniper's ear while pushing him towards Snake Eyes.

Hart jumped back, obviously terrified, and looked around helplessly. "I… I was trying to… it's… I wasn't going to hurt him! I…"

"THEN WHY DID YOU SHOOT HIM WITH A NEEDLE?" Beach Head bellowed.

"We were trying to put some silver in contact with his blood."

Beach Head whipped his head around to stare down the newcomer.

"WHAT?"

Storm Shadow patted Snake Eyes' shoulder sympathetically.

Thompson took a deep breath.

"Sergeant Snake Eyes is a werewolf, Sergeant Major. We've seen his lupine form, and we've been in contact with what we assume has been his only victim to date. As far as I can figure out…"

Thompson stopped talking when the shock had dissipated enough for everyone around, with the exception of Hart, Snake Eyes, Scarlett, Storm Shadow and himself, to start laughing heartily. He sighed and patiently waited for the laughter to die down enough to be heard again.

"I have proof," he said a bit testily. "For one thing, these…" he produced the letters from under his jacket, "are the letters to us from that one victim."

"A victim?" Storm Shadow exclaimed. "Thompson, there CAN'T be a victim."

Thompson ignored him; he was more than accustomed to people not believing him.

"Like I was saying," he continued, "I figure whatever happened to that victim was a while ago, before Snake Eyes' control got better, because we would all notice if people regularly got attacked by a werewolf around here. Thing is, we can't…"

"Let me see that," Beach Head said, grabbing the sheets from Thompson. "Dear friends," he read out loud, "I am so sorry. It appears he was able to clean off the honey too quickly for the cure to take effect. I hope you find this letter before you go outside tonight…"

Snake Eyes did not need to hear any more. Truth be told, he hadn't really needed to hear any of it. Tommy was the only one who knew about the greenshirt's theory AND who said greenshirts actually were; he had known what night Snake Eyes wouldn't be in his room because Scarlett's roommate was off base and therefore, when the greenshirts could safely set a trap above his bed; his brother had volunteered to take Timber so the greenshirts could mess in his quarters without encountering the wolf and frankly, who else would manage to talk a bunch of greenshirts into dousing him with water, coating him in honey, AND shooting needles at him? Finally, Snake Eyes even knew WHY Tommy had done it: the idiot was trying to teach him to listen to his instincts more; he'd been obsessing about it ever since the gym incident.

Beach Head was still reading, although he was starting to have a hard time staying angry rather than cracking up laughing, when he felt a block of air moving very fast and suddenly heard the unique sound of two ninjas colliding.

"Ninja FIGHT!" Ace called out, and suddenly, the fighter pilot seemed a very popular person to share secrets with, as numerous Joes approached him to slip him pieces of paper, make small hand signs to him, or whisper in his ear.

Beach glowered at them but didn't push the issue right away: he didn't approve of the bets, but the fact was that ninja fights were pretty fun to watch. This one got even better when Snake Eyes managed to get Storm Shadow in a strangle hold.

"B… brother," Storm Shadow sputtered, smirking as though he was not in the process of getting strangled, "don't you… uck…" The smirk finally vanished as the smaller ninja gasped for air. The talking, however, didn't stop.

"…realize… this… was… all… for… your… own… good?" he finished, gasping between each word.

Snake Eyes released him, signed that he did and proceeded to try and pound his brother and best friend flat. For a man who had been turning blue seconds earlier, Storm Shadow did a remarkable job blocking and dodging most of the hits, merely getting mildly battered rather than clobbered.

Between the fight and the greenshirts' reaction – they seemed to be having trouble facing the idea they had been used by Storm Shadow to prank Snake Eyes and were arguing over alternative ways to explain what was happening - Beach Head was so distracted that he only noticed Stalker when his fellow Ranger grabbed the letters from him.

Stalker read the first few sentences on the top sheet, scanned the rest, rolled his eyes, squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, and, making Beach Head jump, suddenly shouted at both ninja to stop.

It was a great credit to the authority that Stalker could put into his voice that both men actually did stop. Beach Head suspected it was partly because they had once both been under Stalker's command, but in any case, the point was that the two ninja snapped to attention before they could help themselves and adopt a more ninja-like casual attitude.

"Both of you, with me," Stalker said, marching back towards the Pit's entrance. "You too, Scarlett. Nobody's going to make me believe you weren't in on this. Your quarters, right, Tommy? I'm guessing he moved with the incense and the CD."

* * *

"…and sure enough, Timber was in Storm Shadow's quarter. In his bed, actually," Stalker finished.

"I still don't see the necessity of removing the newspaper," Storm Shadow grumbled. "That was just low, Stalker."

Stalker glared at him and didn't dignify the comment with an answer.

Hawk looked from Snake Eyes and Scarlett to Storm Shadow, to the four greenshirts – two more had admirably turned up when Beach Head had ordered Thompson and Hart to the General's office.

"I don't know whether to laugh or yell, to be perfectly honest," he said. "Snake Eyes, you first. Explain yourself."

Snake Eyes signed that he had to bring Timber along to treat him and had simply wanted to leave his General out of it.

"So, you figured I wasn't big enough to deny you or face the ordeal of looking the other way for a couple of weeks?"

Snake Eyes signed to protest that he knew quite well Hawk was indeed perfectly capable of handling either situation but that it didn't mean he should be made to if it could be avoided.

Hawk snorted angrily at him and turned to his red-headed companion.

"Scarlett?"

"I agreed with him, sir."

Hawk sighed and shook his head.

"I don't want either of you to EVER do this to me again, are we clear? You need to break rules, you TELL me. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!"

Snake Eyes nodded and did an 'ok' sign with his thumb and pointer finger.

Hawk turned to Storm Shadow.

"Keep it short and sweet," he instructed.

"Are you sure? It IS a thrilling tale."

"Summarize. Concentrate on what the devil you were thinking."

"Well, for starters, I also felt that Snake Eyes was doing you a favour by hiding this from you because I figured otherwise, you'd let him get away with it anyway and you'd be the one with the added stress. That being said, once I found out Timber had been spotted, I changed my mind and tried to talk him into coming clean."

Snake Eyes' fists clenched, remembering how Storm Shadow had elected to try and make his point by allowing Timber to be shot with a tranq dart.

"How did you find out they had seen Timber?"

"Holmes came to interrogate me after a hand-to-hand class and told me as much. She gave me the impression she knew Snake Eyes was involved, so I followed her to find out how much she knew; that's how I found out they believed Timber and Snake Eyes were two halves of a werewolf."

All four greenshirts glared at him.

"Keep going, Storm Shadow," Hawk instructed.

"They came up with a detailed plan to force Timber to transform back into Snake Eyes in front of at least one witness by drugging him and locking him in a cage in the middle of the PT field for Beach Head to run into on his morning run. They even set up a bunch of cameras to capture the transformation in case it happened before Beach Head got there. I went to pick Timber up before dawn and brought him back to Snake Eyes, hoping the fact his wolf had been shot – if only with a mostly empty trang dart – and caged would make him decide it was safer to arrange for Timber's presence to be known and sanctioned. It didn't, he still insisted on not involving you and, convinced the greenies wouldn't stooge unless they had proof there was a wolf around, which involved at the very least their finding him again, figured he just had to find a better spot for Timber to hang out at night."

"You're saying Timber was outside at night?" Hawk asked.

Snake Eyes nodded.

"Snake Eyes has him trained to stay where he's told and he was leading him to secluded areas," Scarlett specified.

"I found him that first time because he howled," Thompson piped in.

"Which, in all honesty, he doesn't do much," Storm Shadow said. "Once he was used to spending the day inside, it turned out I didn't even need the forest sound CD. Anyway, I was very angry with Snake Eyes when I left his quarters that night, associating his making such a hare-brained decision with his wrist injury in the gym and blaming both on his not listening to his instincts. Ninjas need their instincts to survive, and I was genuinely concerned for his safety."

Snake Eyes sagged and Stalker sighed. Hawk groaned.

"You do realize the fact you actually mean that only makes it more infuriating?" Hawk said.

"I can imagine," Storm Shadow replied, smirking. "It's like when a child makes a bigger mess while trying to clean up, isn't it?"

Hawk forced himself to take a long breath; Storm Shadow sounded like he was getting enough amusement out of the whole situation to make any punishment that was sure to come his way worth it.

"Go on," the General sighed.

"Yes, sir. So, I was picturing all kinds of ways ignoring his intuition - like he had gotten into the bad habit of doing - could become fatal. At the same time, I was furious that he was so angry with me for Timber getting knocked out by a bit of tranquilizer while taking the chance he'd eventually be shot with silver bullets. That WAS the very first thing they" he pointed at the greenshirts with his chin, "thought of once Holmes finished convincing them Snake Eyes was a werewolf."

"Snake Eyes didn't know about that yet!" Scarlett protested.

"Indeed he didn't, something I realized after a few minutes of pacing around angrily, frustrated and wondering what to do to make my brother come to his senses, if not for this particular issue, than at least in general. So, I came up with the idea of getting the greenshirts to do something constructive rather than destructive: as long as they were doing relatively harmless things to Snake Eyes, they weren't harming him OR Timber, and I wanted Snake Eyes to learn to pay attention to his instincts again, something I hoped would happen after a few unpleasant cures were applied, while hoping none of them would actually reach him and I would be proven wrong in thinking my brother was one ninja who would indeed blissfully step on the proverbial landmine."

"Sir?" Clearwater suddenly spoke up, glaring daggers at the ninja. "Permission to test HIS instincts over the next few months?"

"No," Hawk said firmly. "You've done quite enough damage as it is, Private, and he'd be tearing up the place looking for traps."

"Yes, sir."

Storm Shadow cleared his throat.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asked.

Hawk sighed again.

"That explains the water and the honey," he said. "But needles? What were you thinking? That could have seriously injured someone, and not necessarily Snake Eyes!"

Storm Shadow threw Hart and Thompson a glare.

"I assumed Thompson would keep the needles on him and attempt to prick Snake Eyes during the exercise. I only went with that idea after I had convinced Duke last night to make Beach Head include him in Snake Eyes' team. I absolutely didn't expect him to chicken out and ask Hart to shoot them instead. It's honestly extremely disappointing."

"How was I supposed to guess I'd be in Snake Eyes' team when I was explicitly told that I wouldn't be?" Thompson protested. "I even tried to find Hart and get the needles once I found out this morning, but he was hiding!"

"I was SUPPOSED to hide!" Hart protested as well. "I tried to signal you a couple of times, but I couldn't very well yell out for everyone to hear!"

Storm Shadow cocked his head and, inexplicably, smiled.

"You only found out this morning? I take back what I said, then," he said.

Hawk drummed on his desk with his fingers for a few seconds before he turned to the greenshirts.

"I want a complete report, from each of you, detailing EXACTLY what you've been doing under everyone's noses and how you talked yourselves into believing Snake Eyes was a werewolf."

There was a chorus of "Yes, sir!" from the greenshirts.

"I will determine any other necessary disciplinary actions once I've seen those reports. In the meantime, you're all assigned three tours each of guard duty. Sergeant Major Beach Head will give you your exact assignments. Dismissed."

There was another chorus of "Yes, sir!" and the greenshirts trooped out after one last glare at Storm Shadow.

"As for you three, you will take turns watching Timber, outside, at all times. The poor animal has been cooped up inside long enough. When will he be well enough to leave, Snake Eyes?"

Snake Eyes indicated he had planned on Timber going off in the woods outside the base the following day and staying there until he could bring him back to California.

"Scarlett and yourself will bring him back, then, the time of course being taken off your accumulated vacation. You will both be doing KP for two weeks when you come back."

Snake Eyes and Scarlett saluted, Scarlett adding a "Yes, sir."

"As for you," Hawk turned to Storm Shadow, "You're back on daily appointments with Psyche Out, he may be able to determine how you convinced yourself that you needed to cause this much trouble to ensure Snake Eyes' safety."

Storm Shadow's eyes widened. Snake Eyes, who was in the process of writing a note, paused long enough to silently chuckle.

"Sir, that's really not…!"

"That's really not open for discussion," Hawk snipped. "You will also be on KP duty for a month."

Storm Shadow smirked at that, causing Hawk to scowl.

"You are hereby ordered to NOT throw anything away until you are explicitly asked to by a member of the kitchen staff and you honestly believe that they really do want you to throw the item in question away. That includes any food that you deem 'not fit to eat'. You are not to use this order to refuse to obey theirs by pretending you're not sure of their intention. You are to do your very best to make yourself useful as per their instructions and nothing more and to endeavour NOT to terrify anyone. I do NOT want a repeat of the last few times you've been on KP duty. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you can rest assure I will warn them not to just tell you to take out the trash without specifically pointing to the precise bags they mean."

"With all due respect, sir, you're no fun," Storm Shadow said, pouting.

"Why thank you," Hawk said dryly. "Dismissed, all three of you."

The trio saluted and exited the office. Snake Eyes signed to Scarlett that he'd see her later with one hand and grabbed a handful of the back of Storm Shadow's uniform with the other.

Storm Shadow turned, smiling sweetly, pretending not to notice how angry Snake Eyes was despite the other man's elevated pulse and sharp breathing.

"There's no need to thank me or even to apologize, dear brother," he said.

Snake Eyes shoved the note he had been writing at him and stalked away.

Storm Shadow frowned: he hated when Snake Eyes tried to get the last word in this fashion. He read the note hurriedly.

_I don't blindly follow my instincts because the last time I made a decision based mostly on my gut feeling, with only limited actual information available, beyond just dodging or blocking something, was when I decided I had to kill you upon finding you with Cobra. _

Storm Shadow scowled at the note and crumpled it. He ran towards Snake Eyes and whirled him around by the shoulder.

"Touching," he snarled. "But I'd rather live through that again than have you blunder into a deadly trap because you didn't feel like trusting yourself that day!"

Snake Eyes took a sharp intake of breath and started to sign he didn't need a nanny, but Storm Shadow grabbed his hands.

"You looked like you needed specialized training, I provided," he growled. "You have NO idea how glad I am that it paid off and that you blocked that needle! Seeing as you've never accepted the Hard Master's request to help me lead the clan, complementing your training as necessary would be my responsibility even if I DIDN'T care!"

Snake Eyes shook his hands free but hesitated for a moment, thinking. There was no point arguing with Tommy over his motivations, his friend was obviously genuinely convinced he had done the right thing. There was also no point accusing him of having enjoyed himself, Storm Shadow would not bother to deny it and would not see anything wrong with the fact. It was more than a little scary to think that as head of the clan, Tommy was indeed kind of responsible for him – regardless of the fact it was wholly unnecessary. If anything, Tommy was the one who needed looking after, if only to make sure he kept his head on mostly straight instead of blowing the smallest incidents out of proportion and coming up with this kind of scheme to solve non-existent problems.

He sighed and signed that if Tommy promised that it would keep him from ever doing something like that to him again, he'd yield to the Hard Master's request and help lead the clan.

Storm Shadow's scowl turned into a smile.

"You know, I'd love to pretend this was a secondary objective, but it's actually just a fortunate side effect," he said.

Snake Eyes snorted and, suddenly reminded of what he had noticed while Storm was explaining his actions to Hawk, signed that speaking of secondary objectives, his first advice was to forget about Thompson.

Storm Shadow smirked. "Nah. I'll give him time to cool off before I approach him, but he really has good potential and I like his character, too. Look at all the trouble he went through to try and save you! Err… by the way, I AM sorry the honey went THAT badly. As funny as it was."

Snake Eyes shrugged, both at the apology and about Thompson, and chuckled silently before signing that he was now not sorry at all for any of the mess Timber had made in his brother's quarters.

Storm Shadow laughed as well. "Fair enough," he said. "So, speaking of the fearsome werewolf, who's taking first turn keeping him company outside?"

* * *

**Epilogue**

A week later found Storm Shadow sitting in Hawk's office, wondering what the kitchen staff could possibly have complained about to warrant the General calling him in – he had actually behaved, or at least he thought he had. Waiting to be told off while not knowing what he had done wrong forcibly reminded him of his teenage years, where he'd been sitting in the Hard Master's office on a regular basis, waiting to find out what he needed to apologize for. Granted, back then, it was more a matter of finding out what he'd been CAUGHT doing than what he had done.

Hawk finally looked up from the file he was reading to glare at him.

"I got the greenshirts' reports today," he growled. "The only reason you're still getting this assignment is because you're the only logical choice for it, especially with Snake Eyes and Scarlett on their way to California."

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Sir?" He asked.

"The reason Cobra has been relatively quiet lately is that they've been very actively trying to locate and capture William; we've had to move him three times in the past month alone. I've reached the decision that if Cobra is going to know where he is anyway, he's better off here. He's your new assignment, Storm Shadow. You are to go collect him and he will be under your care, here."

Tommy grinned. Although it was arguably bad news that Cobra had almost found Billy on three occasions in just one month, he'd been trying to talk Hawk into letting the teen hide with him rather than with generic witness protection agents for months.

"About time," he said. "I mean, yes sir." He added under the glare Hawk gave him, throwing in a salute but not losing his grin.

"You need to understand this is strictly a temporary arrangement. As long as he is here, his location is known and even with you around, he won't be as safe as he is when he is off Cobra's radar entirely."

"Understood; I will help you find him new hiding places. I can locate some old friends who can look after him EVEN if Cobra turns up, and who can continue his training."

"You'll need to give me the details, we'll see if they're satisfactory. Here's the address." Hawk said, handing him a piece of paper. "Go get fitted with facial prosthetics and put on a non-white business suit, we don't want you to be recognized. And just in case you're wondering, you will still have to do your remaining KP when you get back. I'm still debating whether to assign you more punishment duty, actually. Dismissed."

Storm Shadow read the address and gave the paper back to Hawk before saluting again, still grinning, and running off.

Fin

* * *

**Author's Notes**

A million thanks to my beta Asterisk78!

After Beach Head and Snake Eyes, and following my request at the end of the last chapter, Storm Shadow's got his turn getting coated in honey. It happens in Flames of Paradise, over in the movie section, chapter 9. Anybody else who would like to write it is still welcomed to do so, naturally.

Thank you for reading! The epilogue is just my filling in blanks between stories, not really a direct introduction to the next one.

Feedback insanely appreciated, as always.


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